


I believe it all is coming to an end

by fencecollapsed



Category: Black Friday - Team StarKid, Nightmare Time - Team StarKid, The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Team StarKid
Genre: Alternate Canon, Angst, Autistic Hannah Foster, Autistic Paul Matthews, Body Horror, Canon-Typical Violence, Choking, Corruption, Found Family, Headcanon, Hive Mind, Infected Paul Matthews, Manipulation, Mild Gore, Mutation, Prophetic Visions, Prophets, Sister-Sister Relationship, Speculation, Stabbing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:35:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 60,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25775236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fencecollapsed/pseuds/fencecollapsed
Summary: Hannah Foster is the Omen, bringer of warnings for the ancient entity Webby. When the apotheosis comes to Hatchetfield, she has little to go on.Starlight. Blue. Dancing dead. Warn the Catalyst.She'll do her best.
Relationships: Hannah Foster & Lex Foster, Hannah Foster & Paul Matthews, Hannah Foster & Webby, Paul Matthews/Emma Perkins
Comments: 90
Kudos: 156





	1. I guess we're gonna pretend

**Author's Note:**

> Prophets theory tiiiiime! I've been working on this for a bit as a oneshot and recently decided to break it into chapters for convenience! My personal interpretation of Hannah and Paul as prophets to Webby and the Hive respectively.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!
> 
> (Title and eventual lyrics from How Far We've Come by Matchbox 20)

It could be hard to tell what a "bad day" would mean. Webby gave warnings, but they were usually pretty vague. Hannah spent many of those days passing the warnings along, despite not always knowing what they meant herself. She always found out eventually.

This time was different, though.

**Starlight. Blue. Dancing dead. Warn the Catalyst.**

These ones made sense. Hannah had seen the meteor hit, sitting out on the trailer steps with Lex last night. The flare of blue light, streaking towards the old Starlight Theatre. From space. In the middle of a  _ musical. _ Something about these warnings clicked together very easily. The only one she didn't understand was-

"Catalyst?"

**You know who he is, Hannah.**

A blink. Right, that was the one. She'd seen the man in the suit and tie before, around town and at the coffee shop that made watery hot chocolate. Webby said he was good, he was trustworthy. Hannah always kept that in mind, in case something happened to Lex or Ethan and she needed someone to go to. She would find the man in the suit. The Catalyst.

"What do I do?"

**Push my warnings to him, he is connected like you are, but less. He must escape before he is changed. You must, too.**

Hannah nodded. She could get Lex to go, she was pretty confident. She'd do the hard thing first - warning the Catalyst. She'd never pushed omens through the Black and White before - she wasn't sure she knew  _ how. _ But Webby was there, and Webby would help her.

_ The Catalyst. _

Hannah shut her eyes, gripping her bedsheets. It was early, she'd been woken by Webby. He was likely still asleep. She let her mind travel into the blackness, her focus on his title.  _ The Catalyst.  _ His appearance.  _ Tall, thin white man with brown hair, soft eyes. He looks kind. _ Maybe it would be easier if she knew his name. Webby didn't tell her.

Still, when she searched she could feel his presence in the Black and White. Like Lex's - not very strong, but certainly there. It had a light - a blue light. Lex's was burgundy. Hannah reached towards the light, pulsing like a sleeping man's heartbeat. Webby's warnings echoed in her head repetitively, as they often did, but as she approached the Catalyst's light the volume seemed to raise, like they were blaring in her head.

**STARLIGHT. BLUE. DANCING DEAD. WARN THE CATALYST.**

Hannah shook her head, trying not to get overwhelmed. The light engulfed her hand and she shivered. His energy was tense and anxious, though quiet. Hannah did her job.

"Starlight. Blue. Dancing dead. Catalyst."

That morning, Paul Matthews woke up feeling uneasy.

\--

"Good day or bad day, Banana?"

"Bad day."

"I'm sorry." Lex paused in helping with her backpack to tuck a lock of hair behind Hannah's ear. "Hey, you wanna grab donuts before school? Will that help?"

Hannah shook her head. "Can't go."

"To school? Why not?"

"Starlight. Dancing dead."

"I don't know what that means, Han."

_ "Starlight." _ Hannah pressed.

Lex looked off towards downtown, where she and Hannah had watched the meteor crash the night before. A curious glance back at her stone-faced sister, and an indescribable feeling of dread filled her stomach. Like an instinct she wasn't aware of.

"Hannah, is this about the theatre? Is something wrong?"

Hannah nodded. "Have to leave town."

"Believe me, I'd love to, but we can't yet."

Hannah grabbed Lex by the jacket and tugged. Couldn't she see this was urgent?

"Have to  _ leave." _

Lex blinked. Her brows knit and for a second Hannah thought she'd gotten through to her. Then Lex glanced at the five-minutes-slow clock on the tiny counter and shook her head, standing upright.

"I know the meteor was scary, Banana. But they're taking care of it, okay? The theatre's not even near your school, it's fine." She grabbed her little sister's hand and started guiding her down the trailer steps. "We've gotta meet Ethan now, I've got work."

_ "No!" _

Hannah's shout seemed to shake the trailer. Lex stumbled backwards, struggling to stay on her feet. Something hit the floor and broke. 

Back in their mother's room, the girls heard a  _ creak. _

"Alexandra!"

_ "Shit," _ Lex grabbed Hannah's arm and pulled her along, rushing through the trailer park. "Shit, shit, shit!"

Hannah caught one glance back as their mom stood in the doorway, holding a bottle loose in her grasp. Mom didn't need to know what was happening. Mom was bad.

They met Ethan on the curb in his run-down car and while Hannah clutched her backpack with white knuckles, Lex stewed in the front seat. It was probably good that Hannah hadn't wanted donuts anyway.

"Looks like a flash mob," Ethan said suddenly, and Hannah's stomach dropped.

She glanced out the windows at the scatterings of people through the streets, performing a tightly choreographed acapella song number. 

_ "La dee dah-dah, la dee dah-dah, la dee dah-dah day!" _

"They're all over the place," Lex remarked, watching through her window, too. "Weird setup for a flash mob."

"I don't see any stereos. You think they've got earpieces in or somethin'?" Ethan asked.

"Probably."

Hannah whispered "Dancing dead," and Lex felt a chill rush through her bones.

Hannah kept her gaze locked out the window, scanning the crowds. In the middle of the sidewalk, surrounded by a mob of singers, he was there. Hannah pressed against the dusty car window and squinted to get a better look. A woman in a Greenpeace apron was singing directly at him - they didn't seem to be targeting anyone else on the street. He was red in the face, wide-eyed, afraid. No one else unaffected on the streets was so uneasy, but he was smart. He knew this was wrong.

For a moment he seemed to look right at Hannah. She felt him in that moment. His soul tethered to the Black and White cried out for help.

**Escape.**

Hannah shut her eyes and repeated.

The message echoed in Paul Matthews's head along with the dozens of other thoughts and fears overwhelming him as the song came to an end. Though nearly paralyzed by shock, he did his best.

\--

When they pulled up in front of the junior high, Hannah refused to get out of the car.

"C'mon, Banana Split, you gotta go to school." Ethan said, tapping on the wheel. 

Hannah frowned. "You guys don't."

"That's different."

"Different how?"

"Uh-"

Lex rolled her eyes. "She's stalling, babe." She turned over the back of the seat to face Hannah. "You're gonna make me late for work, Han. Out of the car, c'mon."

**Get out of town.**

"Can't."

"I don't have time for this! I'll fucking walk you in if I have to…" Lex muttered to herself, climbing out of the passenger's seat and circling to open Hannah's door, undoing the seatbelt. "You want me to walk you in?"

Hannah's throat tightened, her breath catching. "Lexi-!"

"We'll talk about this later, okay?"

_ "Lexi!" _

"What-!" Lex was cut off by an eighth grade boy barrelling into her head-on. "Hey! Watch it, kid!"

When Lex stumbled, the boy caught his footing in a graceful pirouette, grinning at the trio with uncannily bright eyes and teeth stained with blue. Hannah scurried back, further into the car as other kids and teachers started to gather, including classmates and teachers of Hannah's. Lex glanced around uneasily. She was used to feeling eyes on her like this, but she hadn't done anything this time. There was no scene.

"I'm just dropping off my sister," she muttered to herself.

"Lexi, have to go," Hannah insisted right as the first boy grabbed her sister's arm.

Lex yanked away. "Jeez, you little shit, shouldn't you be in class?"

As she backed up another kid, a seventh grader, swept her legs out from under her. Lex hit the ground with a  _ thud _ and the small crowd gathered closer, surrounding the car and advancing on Lex. Before she could get back on her feet, the junior high music teacher grabbed her under the arms and lifted her up, blue dripping from his too-wide smile. A death rattle rang in Hannah's ears and she screamed, hiding her face in her knees so she wouldn't have to watch. As the teacher cupped Lex's jaw, holding her mouth open, an ominous hum buzzed from the crowd. Lex thrashed.

That was when Ethan flung the driver's side door open and jumped out, elbowing through the crowd.

"Get your fucking hands off her!" He yelled, and knocked the teacher clean off his feet with a solid right hook.

"Ethan!" Lex choked out as he pulled her up. "What the  _ fuck _ was that?!"

There was no chance to even attempt an answer. The hum grew louder, like a drone. When Ethan glanced back the teacher was on his feet again, nose crooked, blue blood pouring down his face.

**Blue.**

"What the f-"

He'd grabbed Ethan in a chokehold. Ethan grasped at the guy's arms, trying to pry himself free as his windpipe closed off. Panic filled his eyes. Lex tried to advance.

"Go!" Ethan yelled.

"What?!"

"Go, g-get Hannah out of here!" His eyes rolled back, his face turning purple.

"What about-"

_ "Lex!" _

She stepped back, glancing around. All blue eyes were on her, and the dread from earlier was back. She looked at Hannah in the backseat, her eyes wide, her small form shaking.

With his last seconds of consciousness, Ethan waved her off with his hand.

Blinking back the hot sting pricking her eyes, Lex flung the back door shut and jumped into the car, cranking the key and speeding away too fast to bother with her seatbelt.

"What the fuck, what the fuck, what the  _ fuck!" _ She shrieked.

Hannah fumbled with her own seatbelt as Lex hit a hard turn. "Lexi! Seatbelt!"

Lex groaned, not about to be scolded on safety by her kid sister. The car screeched to a momentary halt and Lex strapped in before hitting the gas again. The whiplash knocked Hannah's head into the back of the headrest and she yelped.

"You okay?" Lex called.

"Uh-huh!" Hannah rubbed her forehead. 

**CATALYST!**

"Aagh!"

"Hannah?"

When Hannah opened her eyes, her vision was black. A set of eight ginormous purple eyes stared down at her.

"W-will he be okay?"

**Ethan will return.**

A chill ran through her body. "Bad?"

**Blue.**

Hannah's hands locked together. Her fingers fidgeted. She looked down. "Oh."

A long, spindly arachnid limb reached through the darkness, tilting Hannah's chin up. Webby brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, before pressing her touch to the center of Hannah's forehead.

Blue circled the edges of Hannah's vision. Her chest tightened, the blackness seeping away until she was seeing through  _ his  _ eyes. A coffee shop - the one with the watery hot chocolate. He was standing at the counter.

Hannah's mouth moved on its own.

"Hello?  _ HELLO? PLEASE GOD, I JUST WANT A BLACK COFFEE!" _

She clapped her hands over her mouth - that wasn't her voice.

Hannah was shaking. She could feel his fear. She could feel his heart sink when the barista slid from the back singing, his relief when she wasn't one of  _ them. _ Her stance faltered as he moved, pulling the barista around the counter.

**My voice is not loud enough. Help me speak for him.**

The pressure on Hannah's forehead grew sharper and she winced. Still trembling, wracked with the Catalyst's anxieties and the weight of Webby's visions, Hannah shut her eyes and let the omens pass through her.

"I _feel_ like there's something… **sinister, infecting Hatchetfield.** And I know this is gonna sound crazy, and not very scary, but it _is_ scary! If you **think about the implications.** _Promise_ me you'll **think about the implications!** "

The nervous disbelief in the barista's eyes reminded Hannah of Lex. She squinted, wondering if the woman also had a tie to the Black and White she wasn't aware of. The ring of soft jade that pulsed on the edge of Hannah's vision for a half second served as her only answer.

"Okay, okay, I promise." The woman said.

"Okay. I think  **the world is becoming… a** **_musical._ ** _ " _

Hannah didn't get to see how the rest of the scene played out. The pressure on her skull released and the vision dissolved, leaving her in blackness under Webby's bright eyes again.

"Will they-?"

**You have done all you can.**

"But-"

Hannah felt herself pushed from the darkness, blinking against the daylight shining into Ethan's dusty car. She rubbed her eyes, squinting towards the driver's seat.

"Lexi?"

"Oh, thank god," Lex sighed, relieved. "You okay back there? You went like, catatonic or something, I was about to stop and check on you."

"I'm fine," Hannah nodded. She looked out the window - they were on a bridge. "Leaving town?"

"Yep. I was worried they'd have raised the bridge by now, but I guess I sped fast enough. No one even pulled me over."

Hannah shuddered. "Cops are part of it."

"Always are," Lex said. "Fuck the cops."

The girls managed a quiet laugh. Hannah leaned back, hugging her backpack, and rested her head against the window, watching the waters dividing Hatchetfield from the rest of Michigan pass by. She tried not to think about Ethan.

\--

Lex checked them into a cheap motel as far into Clivesdale as they could get. They didn't have much to get by with, but Lex was convinced whatever was going on in Hatchetfield would blow over before she ran completely dry. All Hannah knew was that there were two possible options, and the favorable one was the least likely. She chose not to say anything as Lex sat on one of the beds, taking stock. Clearly distracting herself just like Hannah was. Hannah dug into her backpack for her tangle bracelet and focused on playing with that.

Aside from ordering cheap takeout and a few check-ins every now and then, the girls were silent for hours.

"What do you think's going on back there?" Lex asked suddenly, when the sun had gone down.

"Invasion." Hannah said quietly.

"What, like aliens?"

"Mhm."

Lex's momentary silence spoke volumes. Hannah could feel the chill in her bones. "Aliens aren't real."

"Yes they are."

Lex swallowed. "They killed Ethan."

"Not killed."

The air seemed to seize.

"What the hell does that mean?"

"Dead, but not dead."

Lex's fingers tightened on the bedsheets beside her. "Hannah, that's not funny. Now isn't fucking riddle time." She took a shaky breath, consciously dialing back her temper for Hannah's sake. It wasn't  _ her  _ fault, after all. "Ethan's… Well, we didn't  _ see _ him die, but he probably did. He's… he's gone."

Hannah opened her mouth for a moment and closed it again, biting back the omen from Webby that wanted to pass through. It stayed on the tip of her tongue, threatening to escape if she spoke, but she didn't want to. She didn't want to pass that on. She just looked up at Lex, who was staring at the floor, quietly scrubbing tears from her eyes.

Lex met her gaze, face breaking into a teary smile as a harsh sob escaped her throat.

"I don't w- _ want _ him to be gone," she breathed.

Hannah got to her feet and climbed onto the bed, leaning her head against Lex's arm. "Me neither."

Lex pressed her cheek to the top of Hannah's head, sniffling. After a moment she nudged the small of Hannah's back, not moving further until she saw Hannah nod yes. She wrapped her little sister in a grateful, comforting embrace squeezing her tight. Hannah pressed her face into Lex's shirt and inhaled the familiar fabric, hugging her back. Lex kissed the top of her head.

"It's fine, we'll be fine," Lex mumbled, desperately fighting back the tears in her voice. "I'll keep you safe like I always do, okay Hannah? We'll be  _ fine." _

Hannah nodded despite the contrary tightness in her chest. Despite the warning rattle in her ears. Despite the messages piling in her throat that desperately wanted to pass.

Because back on the island, the Catalyst's escape chopper had crashed.


	2. it's over for me and it's over for you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for a round of Paul Is Going Through It

When Paul Matthews approached the Starlight Theatre gripping his grenade belt with white knuckles, he already felt split in two.

Part of him was screaming in fear,  **begging** him to turn back. Go back to Emma, it told him, at least you'll die with her. You shouldn't have left her alone, it said. This won't make a difference, it said. You're completely  **fucked** , it said.

The other part kept him moving. Told him this was the only option, he had to do the right thing. Give her a chance by giving up his, she deserved it more, anyway. Keep going, you have to, it said. You  _ want _ to, it said. You  _ want _ to be the hero. And on some level, maybe Paul believed that.

So for the first time in his life, Paul Matthews ignored his flight instinct and walked boldly into the Starlight Theatre, face to face with his own fate.

\--

Paul felt the music deep in his soul. He heard himself singing before he'd even realized he was conscious.

_ "I'm waking up at the start of the end of the world, but it's feeling just like every other morning before. Now I wonder what my life is gonna mean if it's gone."  _

He clapped a hand over his mouth and it felt  _ disgusting; _ warm and wet and raw and mangled. He tasted copper, yanking his hand back, and quickly realized he couldn't see. His vision blue and foggy, nothing was clear enough to make out except for the song blaring in his ears.

_ "The cars are moving like a half a mile an hour and I- AAAUGH!" _ He slammed his hand back over his mouth, trapping the lyrics on the tip of his tongue. Not this shit again.

A record seemed to break in his head, looping the same measure of instrumentals over and over, waiting for him to comply. When he refused, an indescribable agony burned through his body, suddenly alerting him to the injuries he couldn't see. Half his face, his left shoulder, the lower half of his torso down, it was all  _ pain.  _ A scream ripped from his throat, far too on pitch for Paul's taste, but he managed to keep from singing again.

And then the voices came, whispering over each other in gentle refrain.

_ Poor thing. _

_ Hurts, doesn't it? _

They were as mocking as they were sweet.

_ A wretched punishment you must bear. _

_ We don't  _ **_want_ ** _ to do this. _

_ You're leaving us no choice, Paul. _

He swore to god his body was on fire. Another agonized scream ripped through him. He thrashed. It was white hot, endless pain. Oh god,  _ this _ was his fate. Doomed to endure these sing-song voices, broken-record looping, and endless agony until he eventually stopped breathing.

Well… it was no less than what he deserved. He'd let so many people die today, while he'd managed to stay alive. Images flashed in his mind. Charlotte's guts hanging out, blood staining her favorite sweater. Bruised scratches on Alice's neck. A bullet wound still bleeding through Ted's shirt. Bill's body, limp and losing warmth, blood staining Paul's hands. The gun  _ he'd _ thrown down still smoking. His fault, his fault, it was his fucking fault.

_ Paul- _

To top it off, he couldn't even manage to destroy the goddamn meteor. He'd had one chance. One chance to try and save the last person left he cared about, to redeem his useless life, and he'd fucked it up. He'd doomed Emma. He'd doomed everyone.

He'd known he couldn't save the planet single handedly.

_ That's not true, Paul. _

Sure.

_ Listen to us. _

_ We can show you. _

_ We can take the pain away. _

It was like the volume dial was cranked up. Blood dripped from his ears, thick, cold tears from his eyes, and lyrics escaped like vomit before Paul silenced himself again.

_ "- S-Started staring at the passengers waving goodbye-!" _

He shook his head forcefully, wheezing out a sob. His head hung forward, limp off his neck, shoulders shaking. His whole body twitched and trembled, soon too exhausted to even respond to the pain anymore. Slime brewed in his throat and he choked, feeling it drip thickly down the sides of his mouth, from his nose, his ears. He still sobbed, a slimy, snotty mess, until his eyes burned and his emotions were spent.

_ Nobody blames you, Paul. _

_ You haven't lost anyone. _

_ We're all right here. _

Paul shook his head again with a weak scoff, though something in him was calmed by how clear his friends' voices were in the crowd.

He twitched.

It had to have been hours.

The looping track was almost mesmerizing now; in his exhaustion Paul felt his head rocking loosely to it, a foggy haze starting to drift over his mind. Lyrics buzzed in his throat, begging to be let out. Weakly, Paul refused save for an indignant grunt. He owed it to himself to resist as long as he could.

The Hive hummed around him. That was the collective, the hivemind. There was more to it than that, he knew. He wasn't sure how he knew, but he could feel it. Something nameless to him, but powerful, speaking through the collective, trying to burrow its way into his mind. It hummed in his ears. His head tipping sideways towards the sound, Paul hummed too. Only for a moment, though, as his inner song flittered against his closed teeth like a butterfly in a jar. He grunted again, fighting to keep silent, even though every time he sang the pain seemed to lift. He slammed his head back against the wall when it returned full force, the ringing in his ears the angry, impatient Hive.

_ STOP TRYING TO FIGHT US, PAUL. _

Though he still couldn't see more than a foot in front of him and his body trembled uncontrollably, Paul managed to bring his mangled hand into a fist with his middle finger raised. He didn't know where to point it, but he managed a weak laugh when the angry screams clanged in his skull again.

"Aw," his speaking voice burned in his throat, "does the - _ COUGH-  _ big bad hivemind think I'm r-rude?"

_ Fuck you, Paul. _

He spat blue blood.

_ You don't have to be so stubborn. _

_ You already are us. You  _ **_want_ ** _ what we  _ **_want_ ** _. _

_ We  _ **_want_ ** _ what you  _ **_want_ ** _. _

_ We are you, Paul. _

"N-no, you're n-not…"

The effort expended in just speaking was barely worth it. The music blasted through his ears painfully, like a knife jammed into his brain - or more fittingly, a record needle. Drums rumbled beneath him, cymbals crashed, guitars blared. Blood poured.

_ YOU WILL ROT ALONE IN THIS THEATRE, YOU PIECE OF  _ **_S H I T._ ** _ IT'S WHAT YOU  _ **_D E S E R V E._ **

"Y-yeah, that r-really makes me want to join you."

**_P A A A U L L L !_ **

"Jesus, you guys are loud."

_ And you're a lot of trouble,  _ **_prophet._ **

"What the f-fuck does  _ that _ mean?"

For once they were quiet. Of course.

Paul wasn't sure how long it was just him and the looping track this time. All he knew was it didn't hurt as bad now. He didn't know why. 

Exhaustion betrayed him. His head was rocking to the repeat rhythm again, lulling him deeper into the haze. He hated how close to comfort he felt. He hated that he knew how to reach it. He hated that he  _ wanted _ to.

Humming coaxed him. Building volume tempted him. One last jolt of horrible pain forced it out of him.

_ "C-can you tell me what was ever really special about me all this time?" _

The music stopped. It  _ stopped,  _ not looping, just on pause. He exhaled in relief.

_ Oh, we can show you how special you are, Paul! So  _ **_very_ ** _ special to us. _

He twitched. He jerked. The haze overwhelmed him. His body slid lower down the wall.

_ We can show you so much, Paul. We can show you happiness and love.  _

_ We can give you  _ **_purpose._ ** __

_ We can make you  _ **_whole._ ** __

_ Wouldn't you like that? _

Paul felt himself nodding. His neck loose, damaged, he forced it to stop. Slammed himself against the wall again.

_ Of course you would. _

_ You  _ **_know_ ** _ who you are, Paul. _

_ Stop denying us. _

The unison seemed to dissipate for just a moment, leaving only two voices speaking to Paul.

_ Join your family. _

He shuddered. Bill and Alice. 

He slammed his head back a third time. Not them. It wasn't them. It wasn't fucking them.

_ Come on, Uncle Paul. _

Her voice was warm. Like a child running to hug his leg when he arrived to watch her for the night. Like hot chocolate shared with a preteen who'd trusted him enough to come out to. Like a good-natured eyeroll in his direction when her dad was being protective.

_ It's  _ **_okay,_ ** _ buddy. We're right here. _

Comfort. Like a hand squeeze when Paul's heart was beating too fast in his tight chest. Like a kind smile in the middle of a long day. Like his head on Paul's shoulder, arms locked in an embrace on the floor of his apartment.

He wondered if he'd just gone to the fucking musical, would things have turned out different.

The sad laugh that escaped him was more of a sigh. Of course not. This was always going to happen one way or another. He could feel it.

_ Inevitable. _

They'd gone back to the unison. Haze washed over Paul, cloudier than before. He blinked heavily, trying to shake it out. His body was already wrapped in sound, though, soothing him to near compliance. His grip was weak - he found himself wanting to burrow deep into it.

_ That empty space in you has always been there, hasn't it? Something you've been missing? _

"Wh...at?"

_ Paul. Why do you think you've never been happy? _

Had he the energy, Paul would've shrugged. Truth be told, he hadn't even  _ realized _ this fundamental fact about himself until it had been forced out of him by alien spores. There were plenty of reasons he could've tried to grapple with if he'd gotten the chance. Maybe he could've searched for fulfillment in something. Gotten himself evaluated - clinical depression was common enough, it wasn't out of the question. Had he come to terms with it before  _ dying, _ perhaps he'd have tried to do something about it. That wasn't much of an option anymore.

_ It's  _ **_us_ ** _ , Paul. _

He giggled tiredly. They sounded annoyed with him. Their tone reminded him of Ted, which tracked since Ted was with them.

_ You need  _ **_us_ ** _ to be complete, just like we need you. _

Something about that didn't sound quite right. If Paul remembered right, depression wasn't cured by spores from a space rock. Another wave of comfortable blue haze hit him, though, and it sounded more right than wrong. The music wrapped around him even tighter. It felt nice. Despite his acute awareness of how  _ broken _ his body was, this was somehow the most at ease Paul had felt in ages.

_ Warm -  _ too warm _ \- no, perfect, it's beautiful _ \- stop it -  _ don't want to stop -  _ too much, too loud _ \- not enough, need MORE. _

It was in his head. It had  _ been  _ in his head. He suddenly realized how much the thought of it stopping terrified him. 

_ We will not be resisted. You  _ **_are_ ** _ us. _

_ Our prophet. _

_ Our  _ **_Catalyst_ ** _. _

"I don't know what that  _ means…" _

_ It means you belong with us. _

_ You'll be  _ **_happy_ ** _ with us. _

_ "...Wouldn't that be nice?" _

The Hive hummed in approval. Paul sank deeper, every sound around him growing stronger. It took a moment, building in his chest before sending a jolt of energy through his body. Eyes bright, for a few moments Paul felt more alive than he ever had. The song inside him kicked back in full force, and he didn't fight it this time.

_ "I believe the world is burning to the ground. Oh well, I guess we're gonna find out. Let's see how far we've come, let's see how far we've come." _

The applause that filled Paul's ears was giddy. Euphoria swelled in his chest, blue seeping deeper into his veins at the feeling. His voice got stronger.

_ "I believe it all is coming to an end! Oh well, I guess we're gonna pretend! Let's see how far we've come, let's see how far we've come!" _

The song faded into an instrumental, no more coaxing necessary. The drums were heavy in Paul's chest, the release of letting it out setting him on cloud nine. The Hive's praise rushing through him. Maybe he was delirious from blood loss, too far gone from the pain to care what ended it. It didn't matter - it felt  _ good. _ If his legs weren't at the other end of the stage, he'd be on his feet. That wouldn't be a problem for much longer, though.

A final wave of that haze took him higher, so high he couldn't move if he wanted to. His head lolled to the side as he mumbled into his shoulder.

_ "I believe the world is burning to the ground…" _

His body went limp. The voices crooned around him.

_ That's right, come home to us. _

Paul's eyes fell shut.

\--

He saw stars in blue, twinkling in the deep black of space. Calling to him. He reached towards them, the cool light tingling on the tips of his fingers. Blue crawled up his hand, threading over his skin in thick webs until his arms were coated up to the elbows. His head fell back, blue light blaring from his eyes, his mouth, his ears.

He saw planets, galaxies across space touched by the Hive. Felt its power. Felt every set of blue eyes on him. And for a split second, barely long enough to process but long enough to imprint the image behind his eyes, he saw a face looming above him. Deep cracks ran through smooth stone and empty blue eyes, dripping the same blue goop that ran through his veins. Warmth spread through him.

Whether the emptiness in Paul had been meant for the Hive or not, he allowed them to fill it. He spread past himself, momentarily unconfined by his own body.

He was everything and nothing all at once.

\--

Before the morning sunrise, Paul's body had fixed itself to appear acceptably alive. His legs had crawled back to him, his hand pieced itself back together. Like stage makeup, all that bled blue was healed as he lay in the wreckage of the stage, blown against the wall by his own hand.

Easily found by the army when they arrived

"Is he breathing?"

"He's got blue on him."

"Check his eyes."

Agent Faren knelt on the wreckage beside Paul's unconscious body and carefully pried his eyes open one by one. His pupils were tiny, shocked dots in the middle of his strikingly blue eyes. Striking, but no more vibrant than any human's. Faren looked up and beckoned for her Colonel. Schaeffer joined her and took a look for herself, pursing her lips thoughtfully.

"Get him on the chopper, let's see if he pulls through," she ordered, standing up.

Faren obeyed, slinging Paul's body over her shoulder and carting him from the wreckage of the Starlight Theatre onto the chopper to Clivesdale.

Across the waters in a shabby motel, Hannah Foster woke in a cold sweat and screamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! <3


	3. imagine me and you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Lex and Hannah do their best and Paul gets a cape :)  
> song lyrics from Inevitable as well as Happy Together by Turtles

**_"It's been two weeks since tragedy struck our sister city of Hatchetfield. Candlelight vigils line the streets as Clivesdale citizens try to make sense of this unspeakable loss. Every last man, woman, and child in Hatchetfield, gone in the blink of an eye. A meteor and a ruptured gas line was all it took to wipe them off the map. But it will take much, much more to wipe them from our hearts."_ **

_ Click. _

Lex switched off the TV and tossed the remote to the edge of the bed. "Fucking liars," She glanced at Hannah. "Right? I mean, that's not what happened. If it was a gas thing, it would've fucked us up too by now."

Hannah nodded. She'd gone mostly nonverbal since the night they'd arrived at the motel, after she'd woken up screaming. She'd been frantically muttering, something about a Catalyst, and someone else who hurt him, who didn't play fair. Lex had managed to calm her back to sleep, but since then Hannah had barely spoken at all. No good days or bad days, nothing Webby was telling her. Not that this was much of an issue for Lex - her sister didn't  _ need _ to speak to communicate with her. Never really had. It wasn't the not talking that had Lex worried.

"Not like it matters if everyone's dead, though," Lex continued, and Hannah made an uncertain noise. "Hey, you think if I told this hole's owner that we're survivors she'd hook me up with a job?"

Hannah frowned. Lex slumped down on the bed, tipping her head back.

"I know, I know," she sighed. "Insensitive. We're getting short on funds, though. There's only so much in my wallet and Ethan's car put together, I wasn't exactly  _ ready  _ to run away yet." She sniffed. "I've thought about selling some of the shit in the car so we can get by a little longer, but… I don't think I can."

Hannah nodded with a soft "mhm." Both she and Lex had had their moments of digging around in Ethan's car in the two weeks since losing him. She had noticed Lex fiddling with his old flip knife in quieter moments. Flicking his lighter on in the dark. Using his comb on her hair in the mornings. Lex had noticed the spare black flannel folded up under Hannah's pillow. Even things they hadn't taken, even trash like old cigarette butts and his weed stash remained untouched. Nothing in that car was fair game to part with.

Lex drew her finger over the smooth handle of the flip knife in her pocket with a sigh. Everything about losing Ethan felt  _ wrong. _ Sure, she wanted to hold onto his things to hold onto  _ him, _ but some part of her also had a feeling he was going to want them back. Even if that made no sense, since he was  _ dead _ like everyone else in Hatchetfield, but she couldn't shake that feeling. Especially recalling what Hannah had said before.

Dead, but not dead.

Lex shuddered, the same dread from that day filling her stomach again. She tried to shake it off and met Hannah's wide-eyed gaze, expression like she'd just felt the same thing. Lex's grip tightened around the knife, trying to ground herself. Hannah climbed off her own bed and sat up next to Lex again - something she tended to do a lot lately. She wrapped her arm around Lex's. Lex laid her head gently against the top of Hannah's. They said still like that for a few moments before Lex moved to get up.

"I should do a dollar store run, pick us up some more snacks," she said. "You wanna come, or stay here?"

Hannah shook her head and stayed put on the bed.

"Alright, got it. You know the drill, stay in the room, don't do anything I wouldn't do."

Lex gave a halfhearted little smile and kissed Hannah's forehead before heading out. 

Behind the closing door, playing with her braids until a few extra moments of solitude passed, Hannah slid off the bed and sat on the floor with her legs crossed, shutting her eyes

"Where'd you go, Webby?"

\--

"Good morning, Ben," Colonel Schaeffer knocked on the hospital room door as Paul was adjusting his tie. "Up and at 'em already, huh? I'll assume you're about ready to go."

"Mhm!" Paul hummed brightly, swiping at his nose to clear the slime that threatened to leak before it could be noticed. He kept his mouth shut to clean off any blue staining his teeth with his tongue. He was a little excited this morning.

"Glad to hear it. Your car is waiting out front, along with the bag holding your new passport and identification cards. Now, I know Dr. Kirk gave you clearance, but are you sure you feel up to escorting yourself and Kelly to Golden? PEIP can still provide a chaperone if you would prefer."

Pulling on his blazer, Paul turned to face Schaeffer. He smiled with clear, white teeth and said, "I feel great, Colonel."

"Alright. Head to the lobby when you're ready, Kelly should be out to meet you soon."

Paul nodded and Schaeffer left. He stretched out his lanky, now fully-healed body and breathed in, feeling a surge of energy run through him. He headed down to the hospital lobby with a rhythmic bounce in his step.

He'd managed his two week wait pretty well, priding himself on remaining  _ mostly  _ undetected. He'd had to infect Dr. Kirk as well as his nurse - Nurse Price - when they got a little too wise, but other than that he'd managed to duck under the radar pretty well. It turned out worthwhile all the same, with Kirk having connections working for the bascule bridge system in Clivesdale. With his help, the bridge between the towns was lowered long enough for a selection of the Hive to cross into town with little question. There was safety in numbers.

The hardest part had truly been knowing he was waiting to see Emma again. He'd figured it out early on, that Emma hadn't simply vanished from the island but rather been recovered by the military. Colonel Schaeffer wasn't nearly as sly as she thought she was with those cheeky little winks every time she referred to a "Kelly Hallaway" who would be accompanying him to Colorado. Paul's suspicions were only confirmed once he had Nurse Price on his side, and saw Emma for himself through her eyes. She was here, she had healed, and from the way the Colonel was behaving, she'd been asking about  _ him. _ From that point on Paul wanted nothing more in the world than to see her again. When he did, he would get to show her everything he'd been shown, and share his new life and purpose with her. He could give her that kiss she wanted. He could give her  _ everything  _ she wanted and more. The thought of it made his blue heart flutter.

The waiting was hard, but Paul had always been patient. And after fourteen days and a few close calls, finally,  _ finally  _ there she was. Looking up at him with those gorgeous brown eyes. Just seeing her face was enough to take him higher than he'd ever been, let alone her running into his arms. 

No one had ever been that happy to see  _ him.  _

He could only feel himself holding her for a couple seconds, his mind full of nothing but  _ Emma Emma Emma _ until the Hive took advantage of his joy and consumed him. The song it began to sing through him was… mean. He wouldn't expect much less, the Hive hadn't been particularly kind to him at the start either, but he was a little put off by his voice being used to gloat. An uncomfortable  _ bad  _ feeling sank into his stomach - he wasn't supposed to feel  _ bad  _ anymore. But he did. Especially when Emma said-

"Paul, you're scaring me."

He grabbed hold of the reins as well as Emma's hands to tell her what he'd really wanted to.

_ "What if I told you I made it, and this is the life that I chose? Would you even believe it, Emma-" _

_ "Do you believe in ghosts?" _

No, goddamn it, he hadn't meant  _ that.  _ Why did it want to scare her so bad?  _ Paul  _ didn't want to scare her, he shouldn't be scaring her…

_ "What if I told you a story that settled all the dust? I'm still the man you trust. It's inevitable for us." _

Emma wrenched her hands free in a panic. "No! Get away from me, you're not Paul, you're one of  _ them!" _

Nothing was working. Emma was still scared and trying to run away and Paul didn't know what to do and  _ his body was running to block her. _ Then Professor Hidgens was at his side, and Nurse Price was blocking Emma from the other direction, and Paul didn't  _ think _ he'd been calling for them, but he was. Because he didn't want Emma to run away.

And she couldn't. She tried, but she always ended up right back in the empty hospital lobby as her exposure to the song was already allowing the Hive to manipulate her perception. Paul had to keep her in his reach, so he could explain. It had to be him. And the more desperate he got, the more the  _ bad  _ feeling faded and the more threatening he willingly became.

_ "Emma! Let me puke in your mouth, Em. Just open your food bin, girl, and you can join the Hive!" _

The ensemble swirled their arms around Paul, just as caught up in the song as he was, and it almost scared him how powerful he felt. Amidst the choreography he felt someone pin something to his shoulders and the feeling unknowingly swelled.

_ "By showing those hands, show me those jazz hands! Get 'em up, or you're shit out of luck! Show me those hands, show me those jazz hands, or I might be inclined…" _

As Paul twirled a thin blue fabric fluttered out around him - oh, he was wearing a cape now. Huh.  _ Nice. _

_ "...to plant my seed! The Hive needs to feed! Happiness is guaranteed!" _

At this point Paul was in too deep to even notice when Emma was screaming again. The song was reaching its peak and  _ he  _ was in control, and the ensemble swarmed her so she wouldn't get away.

_ "What if I told you a story, how the world became peaceful and just? It was inevitable… inevitable… inevitable!" _

Emma hit the floor as the ensemble loomed over her and Paul couldn't stop himself.

_ "The apotheosis is upon us!" _

\--

With no response from Webby, when the overwhelming sick feeling of dread plunged in Hannah's stomach she rushed to the bathroom and knelt beside the toilet bowl waiting to retch. Nothing came up.

"Webby?"

Silence.

The sick feeling still weighed down her stomach. This was ridiculous. She'd gone  _ weeks _ with nothing from Webby except for ominous sick feelings, and that wasn't the deal. The deal was warnings. The deal was omens. All Hannah was getting was the feeling that she was about to puke.

"Have to tell me!" She yelled. "Can't lock me out, not now! Not fair!"

Radio silence.

"Webby!"

Nothing.

Hannah resorted to stomping around the motel room, shrieking the being's name, repeating over and over how utterly unfair this was. She was  _ The _ Omen. She had to know  _ something  _ so she could do her  _ job. _ Otherwise this was pointless.

"Have to tell me! Not fair!"

**Hannah.**

"WHAT!"

Her voice boomed. The lights flickered. She clapped her hands over her mouth. She'd gotten too worked up.

"Sorry."

**It's okay, Hannah. But you must wait. I don't know how to help you right now.**

"When?"

**We will see. For now, wait.**

Hannah scowled. She'd  _ been  _ waiting. For two weeks. But she supposed a verbal  _ wait _ was better than the nothing she'd been getting. So despite her frustration she flopped onto her bed and complained no more. She waited.

\--

The high of the song took a little too long to wear off, and when Paul realized he didn't  _ want _ to scare Emma he immediately released her into the corner of the vacant hospital room he'd led her to.

"Sorry! I'm sorry!" He tried as she shuffled away from him, as far as she could get.

"Oh, so it can speak." She huffed, wiping at her teary eyes. "Just get it over with, I'd rather die fast."

Paul felt a pang in his chest. How had the Hive not  _ known _ this approach wouldn't help? If  _ he  _ was supposed to be the one spreading their word, why hadn't they just let him do it? His hands curled into loose fists, tapping together in a steady rhythm as he calmed himself.

"It wouldn't be death, not really," he said softly. "I'd never hurt you, I didn't  _ want _ to do it like that."

She cast him a sour glance from the corner and Paul could not stop cursing himself. He should've known this wouldn't be easy. He and Emma were far too similar in their stubbornness, and he was sure Emma was even more tenacious. He'd resisted, of course Emma would, too. At the very least Paul could be glad Emma wouldn't have to endure the pain that he had.

"Emma," he had to bite back the song of her name to stay focused, making his voice shake. "I know this is gonna sound crazy, okay? It was hard for me, too. But I swear, once you see it, you'll understand. It's really incredible, everything they've done."

"Is that what they told you when they gave you that cape?"

"Oh! This?" Paul lifted the ends of the cape fondly. "Do you like it? It's a little flashy, but I guess that's the point."

"You look like a supervillain."

Paul dropped his cape and the fabric fluttered down around him sadly. "Is that how you think of me, Emma?"

She looked down. Paul took a cautious step towards her and when she didn't flinch away, took another. Emma watched him like he was a ghost, and on some level maybe he was.

"Please just try and trust me again, like you did that day. Let me show you everything they showed me! I can share it all with you, we can be happy together!"

"Paul-"

He'd reached her, taking her hands into his own and swayed her - a little clumsily since she was off-rhythm and injured, but he enjoyed the feeling of Emma in his arms all the same. She stared at him wide-eyed as the song built in his ears - this one all his - and he opened his mouth.

_ "Imagine me and you, I do. I think about you day and night, it's only right, to think about the girl you love and hold her tight, so happy together!" _

Paul danced them around the room and despite her clearly lingering fear, swore he felt Emma relax against him when he embraced her just for a moment.

_ "If I should call you up, invest a dime, and you say you belong to me, and ease my mind. Imagine how the world could be so very fine, so happy together!" _

"Paul!" Emma yelled, pulling away, and he released her. "Knock it off! You don't love me, okay? You knew me for a  _ day, _ you're just… high on blue shit, or something."

The way her voice lowered sadly made Paul's heart sink. He wanted to take her hands again and bring her into his head right then, to make sure she'd never sound or feel that way again, but he wouldn't. Not until she said yes.

It may not have helped regardless, he felt more in  _ her  _ head at the moment. His song lowered in tone to match her, his feet shuffling uneasily.

_ "I can't see me loving nobody but you, for all my life… When you're with me, baby, the skies'll be blue, for all my life…" _

"Paul. You have to stop."

And he did. The music stopped entirely, in fact, because if Emma didn't want him to sing, he didn't want to sing anymore. The Hive couldn't make him.

Emma looked at him curiously, and this time it was her who moved towards him. She pressed her hand to his cheek, very gently. Her palm was warm.

"You really are still in there, huh?" He nodded. Emma sniffed out a laugh, her tired, red eyes welling with tears again. "I think that's worse, actually."

"If it helps at all, it took a lot to get me."

"But they still got you."

Paul smiled softly, placing his hand over hers. "That's not a bad thing, Emma. I'm happy like this."

"Don't say that."

"Why should I lie? The Hive made me whole, I feel more like myself than I ever have before."

"How can you be yourself if they make you sing and dance?" Emma's tone was suddenly biting, her hand pressing a little harder into his cheek. "Paul hates that, that's his whole thing."

"Maybe I was wrong."

Her eyes dark and intense, Emma brought her other hand up so she was holding his face like she had that day.

"Paul, you  _ promised _ me. You remember that, don't you? You promised me you would never be in a fucking musical. They've got you under their stupid fucking spell and you have to snap out of it."

Paul's smile didn't falter. He brought his own hand up and they were holding each other, the closest they'd ever been. He could kiss her right now and get it over with, but he wouldn't. Not until she understood.

"I don't  _ want  _ to snap out of it."

The moment ended as abruptly as it began. Emma ripped herself out of his arms and backed away. "This isn't you."

"It really is, though." Paul held out his hand again. "Just let me  _ show you-" _

_ Crack. _

A faint blue handprint began to rise on Paul's cheek. She'd slapped him.

The  _ bad _ feeling was back. This time he wasn't singing, this time there was no way to try and alleviate it. He stumbled backwards, eyes shut, trying to burrow further into the Hive so the feeling would go away. Nothing happened. Emma wasn't going to understand, the feeling was never going to leave, and the Hive couldn't make it.

...Only Paul could.

"Go," he said.

The anger on Emma's face dropped away, her still-raised hand releasing from its form. "What?"

"Go, get out of here," Paul's mouth was rambling without his consent, his heel tapping, his fingers playing a rapid beat on his thighs. "It has to be me, no one else will touch you."

"Paul, are you-"

_ "GO, EMMA!" _

His voice boomed painfully, inhumanly, shaking the room, and Emma fled without further question. Paul watched her go through multiple sets of blue eyes, none of which moved to touch her. She escaped.

The feeling eased up a little.

The relief he felt was short-lived, however, as suddenly deafening bells  _ CLANGED  _ through his skull and he fell to his knees, eyes engulfed in blue, slime pouring down his face. He was yanked back into space as the Hive answered his call too late.

_ Paul. _

Blue stars twinkled before his eyes, and the deceptively aggressive bells settled to soft chimes.

_ Our prophet. _

_ Our Catalyst. _

_ You know what you just did was very foolish. _

"I don't want to hurt Emma."

_ Hurt her? _

_ Oh, Paul, of course not. _

_ Never. _

_ We want her to be happy! _

_ With you! _

_ With  _ **_us!_ **

_ You know that. _

Paul nodded. "I do."

_ Of course. _

_ You never have to doubt us again, okay? _

"Okay."

The stars shone brightly into Paul's eyes. Entranced, he couldn't blink. Then again, he didn't really want to. He could feel the Hive seeping deeper into his mind than before, stripping away all that was left of the bad feeling. On the floor of the hospital, he blinked, his eyes bluer than ever.

_ Now, does that feel better, prophet? _

Paul smiled. "Yes."

_ Good. _

Paul got to his feet, dusting off his cape, and noticed Bill and Ted standing in the doorway.

"Paul, are you okay?" Bill asked, reaching for Paul's hand.

Paul took it and pulled Bill into a smooth spin, sharing some of his joy down the line. The way Bill immediately perked up sent his heart straight to the stars. This was how it was supposed to be.

"We're fine, buddy," he assured.

"Uh, Emma got away." Ted pointed out.

"Thanks, Ted, we noticed." Jabbing his finger into Ted's forehead, Paul swiftly extinguished his doubt. "We'll convince her, don't worry. It's  _ inevitable." _

\--

Hannah was sat on her bed, stewing in frustration when finally Webby spoke again.

**Hallaway.**

"What?"

**Hallaway. Find her.**

"Couldn't have told me that earlier?"

**Hannah. You know better than to question me. Find Hallaway.**

Hannah nodded dutifully. Webby was right. Webby was always right. "Find Hallaway."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! <3


	4. run girl run

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song lyrics used this chapter:  
> Run Boy Run by Woodkid  
> The Wolf by SIAMES

_ Run girl run. _

Emma's flats pounded on the asphalt, the uneven rhythm of her limp making her heart race. She was practically blaring an alarm to her weakness louder than the actual bandages, and it  _ hurt, _ but she was too terrified to stop.

_ This world is not made for you. _

Blue, blue eyes flashed in the back of her mind. Paul's eyes, the shocked dots of his pupils leaking black into broken irises. When she'd looked into his eyes the shades of blue seemed restless. Swirling, like mixed paints. Too bright, a ring of glowing cyan piercing his gaze. Not human, not in the slightest. But he'd looked at her just like he had before.

_ Run girl run. _

He'd let her go. He'd  _ made  _ her go. His shout was still ringing in her ears, the way he'd shaken the room, rattled the medical instruments without touching them, nearly thrown her off her feet with just his voice. If he could do that, Emma had no idea what else he could do. What  _ any _ of the infected could do. How he could've attacked her. But  _ didn't. _ He'd told her to go.

_ They're trying to catch you. _

Emma shoved through a small group on the crosswalk. Probably infected. Probably waiting to catch and kill her, because why wouldn't they be? It wasn't like Paul could do anything to stop them. It didn't matter if  _ he _ was somehow different, the others would pick up his mess. All he'd done was buy her some time.

_ Run girl run. _

Despite that, despite her leg burning, she kept moving. She didn't know why.

_ Running is a victory. _

Why.

_ Run girl run. _

Fucking  _ why. _

_ Beauty lays behind the hills. _

Emma stumbled to a painful stop on the corner of an intersection. She cast a frantic glance back - she'd run a good mile from the hospital, and from the looks of it, no one was chasing her. At least, as far as she knew. She didn't know much of anything at this point. She didn't even know where she was. The last time Emma had been in Clivesdale - outside of her drive from the airport in January - was when she was seventeen. The last family holiday before she'd left, when Jane had come home and they'd visited their grandparents for Christmas.

_ Oh god, not now. _

As soon as Jane crossed her mind she shook her head, pushing the memory back down. That was more than she could take right now. This rollercoaster Paul had dragged her on was heavy enough. She leaned her weight against the stoplight on the corner, trying to take some pressure off her bad leg as she caught her breath. Her eyes stung, she scrubbed it away with her fist. Her leg trembled. She dropped her head against the cold metal of the stoplight, gripping the pole with clammy hands and struggling to stay upright. If she fell off her feet now she wasn't sure she'd be able to get back up again.

People shuffled by, staring at her as they grouped on the curb and waited for the light to change. Emma squeezed her eyes shut and focused on slowing her pounding heart.

It took a few minutes. The light changed, the group crossed. Emma's hands had stopped shaking enough to sling her backpack to one shoulder and dig out her phone, on which she pulled up her maps application to find the closest motel. She had to go  _ somewhere,  _ even if she didn't see much more free life ahead of her. Emma Perkins would not just roll over and die.

Scrubbing her tired eyes clear again, she limped across the street and followed the map's directions to the Barker House Motel.

\--

When she pushed through the door, a punkish teenage girl was leaning over the front desk talking to the plump, kindly woman working it. A younger girl with her hair in braids sat in a chair against the wall, clutching a black backpack and kicking her feet.

"I've been working since I was sixteen, Min, you need the help! Just let us keep crashing, I can-"

"Hold on, we'll talk about this later," the woman held up her hand and the teen stopped talking. Both turned to face Emma. "Hello! Can I help you?"

"Looks like you need it," the teen remarked, the look in her eyes unreadable.

Not unwarranted - Emma was sure she looked like a wreck. She was leaning on the door frame, strands of loose hair from her bun sticking to her sweat-slick forehead, her breathing was shallow and heavy and her leg felt like it was about to fucking  _ fall off. _ She righted herself precariously and stumbled towards the front desk.

"I need a place to stay," she said, digging into her backpack for the crisp new wallet she'd been given. "Just for a while, I need a room…"

The woman smiled kindly and booted up the check-in computer. "Well, that's what I'm here for! Minnie Barker, I'm the owner. What's your name, hon?"

"Em-" she coughed, shaking her head. She didn't feel the new identity would help her much, but it was on all her cards now. "Uh, Kelly. Kelly Hallaway."

_ Thump. _

The little girl's backpack hit the floor. All eyes in the room turned to her, stock-still, staring right up at Emma.

"Hallaway."

Emma nodded slowly. "Yeah, that's… that's me. Can I get a room without windows-?"

The girl was on her feet, scurrying to Emma's side. Looking her up and down like she was searching for something. A tiny gasp escaped her.

_ "Bloody _ Hallaway,"

"What?" Emma looked down and winced at the blood seeping through the bandages around her thigh. Her stitches must have ripped at some point on the street. "Oh,  _ shit," _

Ms. Barker rushed around the desk, taking Emma by the arm. "Oh dear, that looks bad. Come on, let's get you off that leg and fix you up…" She started walking Emma to the back room. "Lex, will you come with us? I might need an extra pair of hands."

The teen - Lex - followed awkwardly, glancing back at the little girl. "Uh, I guess? Go back to the room, okay Banana?"

The kid shook her head and started to follow, too. "Hallaway!"

With a sigh, Lex scooped the fallen backpack off the floor and ushered the girl towards the door, while her eyes shot wide with clearer recognition.

_ "Beanie's _ Hallaway!" She yelled. "The Catalyst's Hallaway!"

Emma's stomach dropped.

"That's enough, Hannah!" Lex shuffled the girl out the door and rejoined Emma and Ms. Barker. "Sorry about that."

"It's… fine, uh, did she say Beanie's?" Emma asked.

She followed Ms. Barker into the back room and lay down on the sofa. While Ms. Barker retrieved the first aid kit, Lex pulled up a chair and took a seat.

"Yeah, it's a coffee shop in our hometown, I'd take her there sometimes. You're dressed like the baristas who worked there, that might be it?"

"Okay. Okay. Okay." Emma nodded. "Is your, uh… is your hometown called Hatchetfield, by any chance?"

Lex's face seemed to go pale. "...Yeah."

Emma's heart picked up again. She couldn't stop nodding. "Okay"s tumbled from her lips as she pulled herself onto her elbows and scuffled backwards, away from Lex. At the other end of the room, Ms. Barker grabbed the first aid kit and hurried to kneel by the sofa, pressing Emma's hip down gently to still her.

"Relax, Kelly, we don't want to make it worse."

"I n-need," Emma stammered, "I need you to sing something, both of you,"

The other two looked at each other.

Lex blinked. "What?"

Ms. Barker reached out again. "Kelly, just lay back down-"

"Don't touch me! You have to sing first, y-you-" Her mind, raced, she needed  _ proof _ neither of them were infected. "Sing the beginning of  _ Moana!" _

_ "What?" _

"Fucking  _ sing!" _

Perplexed, they both stumbled their way through a few lines somewhat reminiscent of  _ Moana. _ It was just as pathetic as Emma's own attempt back in her professor's bunker, and she'd never felt more relieved in her life. Lex and her sister had probably been out of Hatchetfield a while before all this. Yeah, that made sense. They probably believed the ruptured gas line story, too. Emma sighed and flopped back down on the sofa.

"Okay. That sucked, we're good here," she pointed at Lex. "Kid, you managed to dodge one hell of a bullet, but you've got a  _ massive _ shitstorm coming."

Lex just blinked, shocked into silence for a few moments before she flung her hands out at Emma in disbelief. "What the  _ fuck  _ are you talking about?"

Emma draped her hand over her face, rubbing her temples. "Listen, I just had to run from the cute guy I've thought was dead for two weeks because he wanted to puke in my mouth. I  _ can't  _ go through it all again right now. But if people start singing at you? Fucking  _ run." _

"...You officially make less sense than my sister."

Emma just laughed tiredly. She kicked her foot out and Ms. Barker, who had been sitting quietly in her own perplexion, finally took the hint and propped Emma's leg up gently, beginning to unwrap the bloodstained bandages. She sucked a breath in through her teeth upon seeing the wound, bruising around the ripped stitches, oozing blood. She pointedly held the old bandages out to Lex, who disposed of them with a begrudging grimace.

"Goodness, hon, what happened to you?" Ms. Barker asked softly.

"Helicopter crash," Emma mumbled into her hand. "Cost me a kiss, too."

"Yikes," Lex said.

"Yep."

Emma winced at the sting as Ms. Barker began dabbing at the wound with disinfectant. She squeezed her eyes shut and bit the inside of her cheek. God, at least when they did this the first time at the hospital she'd been unconscious.

"I thought the news said everyone in Hatchetfield died after the gas leak." Ms. Barker said.

"That was a military cover-up. The gas leak, at least.  _ I  _ thought everyone else died, too, until a few hours ago."

"So what  _ did _ happen?" Lex asked. "All I know is my sister got antsy and wanted to leave town, and then people started attacking us so we dipped."

"So you  _ were  _ there?  _ Ow, fuck!" _

"Sorry, sorry!" Ms. Barker pulled back her washcloth, listening intently

"Just in the morning. We left before they raised the bridge." Lex said.

Emma sighed. "Well, the bridge is down now. Listen, Lex, right? If you see anyone else from Hatchetfield, don't trust them. No matter what, okay? They're  _ fucked. _ And if you see anyone singing or dancing, they're fucked, too. It's this alien hivemind thing, they want to make us all part of their shitty musical, and they'll kill us to do it."

"Is that what happened to the guy you liked?"

Emma blinked. Lex's tone was surprisingly soft, her expression almost… sad. It was a little jarring from the snarky energy Emma had been picking up on. She looked up at the teen and for a moment, felt an odd moment of understanding between them. Then the image of those too blue eyes flashed in her mind again. Her heart started to ache. She scrubbed at her eyes before they could start stinging.

"Yeah, that's… That's what happened to him." She sniffed.

"Sorry."

"Hey, it wasn't  _ your _ idea to blow up the meteor."

The silence that hung in the room was heavy. Emma squeezed the bridge of her nose to ground herself and stared up at the ceiling. Lex sat back in her chair and hugged herself. Ms. Barker placed her hand on Emma's arm.

Really Emma was just glad for the acceptance - she didn't have the energy to deal with these people not believing her. She got the feeling Lex's sister knew  _ something, _ that probably gave her a leg up on not sounding completely crazy. The sweet little motel owner who'd surely never stepped foot in Hatchetfield in her life might've been a different story, but she'd been largely quiet, like she was fascinated. After a moment she patted the sofa cushion gently.

"Well, you'll be safe here for now," she said. "I'll keep my eye out for anyone singing. In the meantime, you just rest so I can get this leg taken care of."

"Yeah. Thanks."

Emma managed to sigh out a small bit of her tension, laying her head back and shutting her eyes. She tried to focus on her breathing, refusing to let her mind wander to Paul while Ms. Barker silently worked. After the running, the pain, everything she'd gone through today, it didn't take long for Emma to pass out.

\--

At near the other end of town, Paul was struggling to keep Emma out of his own head.

"It's nice to have all three of us together again, huh? How long has it been?" Bill asked.

"A year? Year and a half, maybe." Paul replied absentmindedly, muffled in his own palm.

"Yeah, that sounds right. I missed this."

"This isn't really anything like how we used to hang out, Dad." Alice pointed out.

A fair thing to acknowledge, seeing as the wrecked waiting room of a hospital isn't a very ideal family get-together. Especially at the start of what most would call the apocalypse. At present, this waiting room was a mess of smeared blood, stained blue, toppled chairs, and twitching bodies undergoing apotheosis. In a row of chairs against the wall Bill sat straight-backed in the center with Paul on his left side, hunched over his knees with his chin in his hand, and Alice on his right, sitting sideways with her legs dangling over her chair's armrest. Paul's heel tapped against the carpet. Bill's fingers tapped on his own armrest. Alice's hand tapped on her knee. All in perfect rhythm.

"I know, I know. I'm just glad, is all." Bill said. "All I really wanted this whole time was to have that back."

Paul hummed, reaching his free hand back to place on Bill's arm. Feeding a little off that good feeling. Paul was a little sore, which he had not missed after being completely numb to pain for two weeks. Lingering punishment from letting Emma go, he was sure, and with the deliberation in his head about how exactly he would go about getting her back, and the overall plan going forward, it wasn't particularly enjoyable. That was a strange feeling now, not being fully euphoric. Paul felt oddly at peace despite it all. An unsettling sort of calm. Or it would be, if Paul could really be unsettled anymore. It was all very fascinating.

Still his tapping picked up, straying from unison with Bill and Alice. Alice frowned and glanced at him.

"You're stewing, Uncle Paul."

"We're  _ thinking," _ Paul corrected.

"About what?"

Paul shot Alice a smirk. "Stuff."

"Well it  _ feels  _ like you're stewing," Alice said, rolling her eyes. "And I can't hear anything."

"That's intentional."

"Rude."

"Alice, we're all still permitted to our privacy. Not everything has to be everyone's business." Bill said.

Paul hummed in agreement. His tempo picked up a little more. He wasn't completely present, his mind just stuck on Emma. He wanted her back, that was undeniable. Since learning she was alive he'd wanted her with him again. He still did. But part of him had wanted her to leave, didn't want anyone to touch her. He'd taken her off the Hive's radar so nobody would, and he had no intentions to put her back.  _ But he did still want her. _

Ugh. Too much in his head right now. Too many feelings he couldn't explain anymore, buried under a thin layer of numbness. He wasn't sure if it was him who was restless, or any one of the hundreds of people in his head. Either way, the feeling was there and Paul's tapping became its own rhythm entirely. The thought of Emma wouldn't leave him. He flexed his hands. He needed to move.

He stood from his chair and stretched out his back. It felt weirdly stiff. "I'm gonna take a walk."

"Okay, we'll be here." Bill waved him off.

_ "Told you he was stewing," _ Alice accented her sing-song by pointing one of her legs out.

Her attitude was fair. She was hungry, and she wasn't the only one. For the time being they'd gone back to waiting. Paul had never felt well-suited for a leadership position, but now that he'd been saddled with one he'd gratefully use it to make everything stop for a little while when he needed to think. It made things a little easier. The others might get antsy, but the Hive was patient. All in due time, they knew. Paul felt their faith in him. He didn't need to rush.

He stuffed his hands into his pockets, heading out the main doors to take a lap around the building. Stepping to a beat, he quickly realized why he'd needed to be on his own. He breathed in the cool air and the building synth in his head, and when his eyes were shut he saw Emma.

_ "Each and every day, hiding from the sunshine." _

He rounded the corner and the song felt stronger, thumping in his chest like it wasn't just his.

_ "Wandering in the shade, not too old, not too young." _

He squinted,  _ sure _ it hadn't been just him that time. He changed his pace, curious to see who was out here with him. What they had in common.

_ "Every night again, dancing with the moonlight," _ Paul deliberately cut himself off.

_ "Somewhere far away-!" _ The other voice seemed to peak, also recognizing he wasn't alone.  _ "I can hear your call," _

Paul bounded down the sidewalk towards the source of his apparent duet partner, nearly slamming into him when it turned out they had the same idea. Paul grabbed the kid's arm and pulled him upright to keep him from eating shit on the asphalt, instead flinging him into the wall where he recovered, dusting himself off like it was choreographed. This kid was straight out of a greaser flick - leather jacket, a fingerless biker glove, curly black hair stiffly styled, one ear pierced. Definitely someone Paul had  _ seen  _ around Hatchetfield but never actually spoken to. Though one perk of a hivemind was never having to ask for names.

"Hey, Ethan. What are you doing out here?"

"Gettin' some air," Ethan said, picking his leg up like a kickstand to lean against the wall. "What are  _ you  _ doin' with that song in your head?"

One of Paul's hands wandered from his pocket, taking the end seam of his cape and running his thumb over the smooth fabric. "Just thinking about someone."

"You got someone you wanna find, too, huh?"

Paul glanced down, moving to join Ethan against the wall. His heel tapped on the asphalt, and he noticed Ethan tapping on his thigh in sync.

"You can say that."

Ethan exhaled. "Yeah, I'm with ya. Told my girls to run before I blacked out. Shouldn't've done that, 'cause now they're not here and I dunno where to find 'em."

"Mm. Hindsight is 20-20."

"I thought it was 2018."

Paul laughed before looking at Ethan and realizing he was completely serious. He coughed.

"Yeah, it's 2018."

Shooting a weird look at Paul, Ethan tipped his head back on the wall and sighed again. "I gotta find my girls. Anyone else'll scare 'em, especially Hannah. She was real jumpy that first day, I don't want anyone else getting to 'em first."

"Do you want me to take them off the radar for you?" Paul asked.

"What's that mean?"

"I could make it so no one else can go after who you're looking for. They'd be close to invisible to the rest of the Hive, no one would notice them but you. It'd keep them safe."

Ethan's mouth dropped open. "You can  _ do  _ that?"

Paul raised a brow, smiling a little. After a few moments, and a little unconscious prodding, recognition lit up in Ethan's eyes and he got it.

_ "OH!  _ You're him, aren'tcha? You're the..." Ethan snapped his fingers like it would trigger his memory. "The fuckin'... the guy."

Paul snickered. "The Guy like from  _ Spy Kids?" _

"Fuck  _ off,  _ you know what I mean." Paul nodded. "Shit, man, I didn't know you were  _ Paul _ Paul. I was only hearin' about you, hadn't seen you until now."

"Please don't worry about it, I don't care," Paul laughed awkwardly.

Ethan had stepped away from the wall, moving to study Paul with an expression of mock scrutiny. Paul picked up the beat, tapping his fists together.

"I dunno what I expected, but you're kinda underwhelming." Ethan remarked.

"Thanks."

"'Cept for the cape, though," Ethan pulled at the blue silk accessory with a scrutinizing squint. "This is fuckin' ridiculous, dude, what are you, a magician? Gonna get yourself a top hat? It'd really complete the look, I know this great place that sells 'em for ya-"

Paul yanked his cape out of Ethan's hands. "You're one to talk, Grease Lightning."

"Ha, original," Ethan laughed, leaning on the wall again. "You'd do that, though? Make 'em invisible?"

"Sure. I'm doing it for myself, I don't see why I shouldn't help you out. Besides, it makes a better story, don't you think?"

Paul's fists tightened a little. He wasn't sure where that last part came from. Upon further thought, though, he found himself agreeing. If he was the protagonist of this musical, he might as well keep it interesting. Beside him, Ethan nodded.

"Thanks, man. It's uh, Lex and Hannah Foster? If that's helpful?"

Paul hummed. His nose dripped blue as he made it so; in addition to Emma Perkins, Lex and Hannah Foster were also off-limits. He received no pushback this time, though he did pick up on the soft jingling of bells. When he glanced back at Ethan, he was grinning, tapping a brand new beat on his thighs.

"This is great," he said. "I'm comin', Lex. I'll get you to California."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot of dialogue in this one and I feel like it's not as strong as the other chapters but it's a necessary pit stop! We're gettin' places!
> 
> Thanks for reading! <3


	5. only for now

Hannah sat on her bed, bouncing restlessly, flapping her hands until her wrists were sore. She'd found Hallaway, and it hadn't even been hard! She recognized this woman, too, having seen her through the eyes of the Catalyst. He'd gone to her on that day to try and keep her safe, he cared about her. Hannah understood very quickly why Hallaway was important. Hannah liked understanding.

Lex came back to the room eventually, looking tired. She glanced at Hannah like she knew what she was about to say and shook her head.

"Kelly's asleep, Banana," Lex climbed onto the bed and let Hannah snuggle up to her side. "Passed out while Min was doing the stitches. And I thought  _ we  _ went through a lot."

"Webby says she's brave," Hannah relayed.

"Yeah. Listen, Hannah, about Webby. Was it her who said the not dead thing about Ethan?"

Hannah nodded. "Dead, but not dead."

"And uh, did she make you nervous that day? Did she tell you to get us to leave town?" Another nod. "Right. Well, Webby's right, and you can tell her I said that. We're… We're gonna have to be extra careful now, okay? Some of what Kelly said sounds  _ crazy, _ but I believe her. I believe you."

Hannah nodded. This was good. Lex believing her was good. She wouldn't always, but when she did it helped a lot. Hannah nestled into her side, burying her face in Lex's shirt. Lex took the hint and held her tight, and the pressure felt nice.

"We might see Ethan again." Lex said quietly.

"Will."

Lex sighed. "Yeah. He's… I think he's gonna be fucked up when we do. He won't be our Ethan. I don't know what all this is or what it's gonna look like, but we'll be careful. And I'll keep you safe, okay, Banana?"

Hannah nodded again. Lex would try. Lex may not succeed, but she'd always try, it was certain. So few things Hannah knew were certain, but she never doubted Lex when the chips were down. Her sister was always there, and now they had Hallaway, too. Hannah could comfortably relax, for now.

She wrapped her arms around Lex's waist and snuggled down. The sun was setting outside, casting an orange glow through the window. Now was as good a time as any.

Lex bristled a little. "You're really not gonna let me pee first?" Hannah looked up at her with tired eyes. Lex sighed and gave an equally tired smile. "Kidding, I don't actually have to."

Hannah laughed a little, laying her head back down. Lex's embrace was warm and comforting. Familiar. Safe. Her heartbeat was steady, just like it always was.

"Night, Lexi," Hannah mumbled.

Lex leaned down and kissed the top of her head. "Night, Hannah."

\--

_ Paul. _

_ P a u l… _

_ You can hear us, Paul. _

"Mhm?"

_ How do you feel? _

"Good."

_ Are you still sore? _

"A little."

_ Would you like us to make it stop? _

"You don't have to."

Bells of laughter jingled in his ears. Though at his expense, they still sounded nice. Paul gave a melodic little sigh, adjusting the mildly irritated shoulder of the arm once used to throw a misguided grenade. He took its weight off the wall, leaning his head back and looking up at the sky. It was fairly clear where he sat, out in the back of the hospital. Not a great view, what with the trucks and general atmosphere of the whole street, but a view nonetheless. The sun was sinking further below the horizon - the stars would be out soon. Paul loved the stars. His room had had a window, and over the nights of these last weeks Paul had found it particularly calming to look out at the stars. They felt like home.

_ You're as precious as ever, prophet. _

The Hive spoke again as their laughter subsided.

_ Still haven't learned, have you? _

_ You can take what you want. _

"I know that."

_ Do you? _

_ Then why keep hesitating? Why let yourself ache? _

_ You're doing this to yourself. _

Paul hummed. His fingers tapped out a rhythm against his knee. Perhaps he'd taken enough alone time today, though in his defense, he wasn't ever alone anymore. Even when he was just speaking with the Hive, he could feel everyone else, right there in the back of his head. Antsy. He could especially feel Ethan's restlessness right now - frustrated that he'd been ensured first dibs on his desired spread and then immediately ordered to wait. That was fair. But Paul just still felt… unprepared. Taking the hospital was easy. He'd barely even had to do anything. This was a whole town, and Paul didn't have experience with that.

_ Stage fright is natural. _

_ But the audience is waiting, Paul. _

_ We have to take the stage soon.  _

_ It will all be worth it when they cheer for you. _

"I was never into theater."

The bells were back. Paul knew they were right. He didn't  _ want _ to just stay here. He wanted what they wanted. He didn't have much of a choice. He got up, rubbing his shoulder, and headed back inside. The Hive hummed approval in his ears, and the sore feeling let up a little.

The others in the hospital met him in the lobby. Everyone left in Hatchetfield could hear him anyway. 

"It's been long enough," he admitted. "We're clear to start moving out. The bridge is down again, so that means everyone who's ready. Keep it slow this time, build the suspense. And stay with a duet partner, it's safer that way. Ethan, you're with me."

The teen lit up, immediately rushing to Paul's side. A few murmured amongst themselves, and Paul's friends just looked at him, confused.

"You're taking a kid?" Ted asked.

"Paul, if you're even going, shouldn't you stick with one of  _ us?" _ Bill added.

"He shouldn't be going at all, he should stay here on home base. Hell, going back to Hatchetfield is a better idea." Colonel Schaeffer said. The chunk of flesh ripped from her throat oozed blue, but it was already healing nicely.

A murmur of agreement rippled through the lobby.

"Hey, c'mon,  _ he _ makes the rules," Ethan piped up. "If he says he goes, he goes."

"Yeah." Paul nodded.

Ted frowned. "This is about Emma, isn't it?"

Paul stuttered. Well, of course it was about Emma. Why was he surprised they knew? They were all in his head, after all. Still, he was feeling a little targeted. Trying to find his words with no aid from the Hive, he fiddled with the ends of his cape until someone else spoke up. 

"Perhaps it would be efficient to let one of us find Emma and bring her back for you," Hidgens suggested.

Something utterly unfamiliar rushed through Paul, filling him to his core for just an instant.

_ "NO!" _

The strong pulse of sound shocked from him, shaking the room, setting everyone off balance momentarily. It passed, and the feeling was gone. The surprise in every set of blue eyes remained.

_ "I _ make the rules.  _ I'm _ going to find Emma. I'm taking who I'm taking. That's that."

"Yeah!" Ethan hyped.

Paul stuck out his hand and Ethan high-fived it. There were no further objections. With a snap of Paul's fingers, a few duet pairs began making their way out. Slowly, spread out, keeping things close to their chest. It was more fun that way. Paul and Ethan were set to go, too, when Bill grabbed Paul's hand.

"Paul, hey, wait a minute. You've gotta promise me you'll stay safe." He said.

"Hey, of course I will," Paul squeezed his hands. "As long as you promise the same, okay?"

"Okay. It'd be easier if we were going together, though."

"I've got my reasons."

Convenience, like-minded goals, the last time he and Bill had gone on a mission together he'd gotten Bill  _ killed… _ oh, the feeling that thought gave him was uncomfortable. He shook it off, but when he looked up again Bill's expression was gentle. He'd already felt it.

"It wasn't your fault, Paul. I'm still right here. We both are."

Paul nodded. "You're right. And listen, you don't have to worry. I'll be right in the back of your head the whole time, okay?" He tapped his own temple. "And you'll be in mine."

"Alright." Bill pulled Paul into a hug. "Break a leg, Paul."

He smiled and hugged back. "Thanks, Bill."

They parted ways again and Paul joined Ethan at the door. They headed out into the dark, starry night.

"So, where should we go?" Ethan asked. "Left, right, straight shoot? This'd be way simpler if I had my ride."

"Straight shoot, probably. I'm not very familiar with Clivesdale."

Ethan hummed - he wasn't, either. The streets were mostly empty. Quiet. Ethan kept humming to fill the cool air as they walked in step down the street, and Paul harmonized. It wasn't much of a song, but it was something. Paul kept his gaze up on the stars, unconsciously rubbing his shoulder again. Ethan glanced at him.

"Hey, your arm alright, dude?" He asked. "You're lookin' a little janky."

Paul pulled his hand away and stuffed it in his pocket.

_ You're doing this to yourself. _

"Yeah," he said. "I'm good."

\--

Morning came, bedridden in Clivesdale once again. Shit just did not change. At least this time Emma was only staying off her feet for the day, just as a precaution while the new stitches healed. Still not ideal, though.

"...so he left. I don't  _ know _ what happened exactly, but I heard the explosion. Saw this big flash of blue light in the sky. I know he did it. After that I passed out on the beach, and that's when the army found me and brought me here."

As Emma spoke her two-person audience listened intently. Hannah sitting criss-cross at the end of the bed, Lex leaned against the wall. The room was small and a little dark, but that's what Emma had wanted. No windows, little more than the minimum of necessary comfort meant less chance of being found quickly, plus she felt it kept her on her toes and ready to run.

"So, what happened after that?" Lex asked. "How'd you find out they got here?"

Emma frowned. "Look, we had a deal. You brought me breakfast, I told you what happened in Hatchetfield. We've reached the Clivesdale portion, and that's where I stop." She slumped down on the bed. "Put in another quarter later."

Emma didn't think she should have to talk about Paul if she didn't want to. She could brush over the details about him in the main story; she hadn't even referred to him by name. As far as the Fosters knew, he was Coffee Guy, and that was fine. She could offhandedly joke about coughing blood on Coffee Guy instead of kissing him before he went on a death mission. She had no attachment to Coffee Guy. The hospital story couldn't be simplified like that.

The hospital story was too much about Paul. It was too much about the time she'd spent missing him. Too much about her stupid crush and the what-if she'd lost. Too much about the fleeting moment of happiness that was ripped from her grasp the moment he'd started singing.

Too much about how, just for a moment, she'd considered staying with him.

"You're right, sorry." Lex said, that jarringly soft tone back again. She stuffed her hands in her jacket pockets, the silence holding for a moment, before she pushed off the wall. "Well, uh, Min wanted me to go on a grocery run for the place. Could you watch Hannah for me while I'm gone? If I'm gonna work here I guess I should actually work."

"I really don't think you should leave the motel." Emma said.

Though Ms. Barker was doting and kind, and hadn't doubted Emma's claims to her face, Emma could tell she didn't really believe her. Which was fair, she supposed; an injured trauma victim could very well formulate a ridiculous story like this as a coping mechanism. She could hear in Ms. Barker's tone that she was just humoring her, and probably thought Lex was doing the same.

"I'll be careful," Lex said, pulling a flip knife from her jacket pocket and twirling it. "I'm armed."

Lex was not doing the same.

Emma was about to protest again when Hannah spoke up for only the second time since the girls had come to the room.

"Safe for now," she said. "Invisible."

"See? It's fine."

"For  _ now." _ Hannah repeated.

"You don't know that." Emma said.

"Trust me, Kells, she does." Lex said, heading for the door. "The store's just a few blocks down, I'll be quick."

"If  _ anyone _ sings-!"

"I said I'd be careful!"

Lex slipped out the door, waving off Emma's worry. Not that her nonchalance helped Emma much. She sat up in bed, running her fingers over the seams of her comforter. After a moment she felt a hand press over hers and looked up to see Hannah at her side.

"Safe. Promise." She said.

Strangely enough, Emma found herself calmed. She managed a little smile and Hannah smiled back.

"It sucks that you have to go through this as a kid," Emma said quietly. "I don't even want to think about what could've happened to my nephew. He's even younger than you, it's… it's not fair. To you or any of the kids who got infected."

Hannah just gave a little shrug before sliding off the bed and going to dig inside her backpack that sat in the corner. She returned with a colorful tangle bracelet and sat back down, twisting it. She seemed deep in thought. Emma just watched her.

"Unpredictable," she said suddenly. 

"Hm?"

"What Webby says. Unpredictable," she looked up at Emma, her stony gaze pointed. "Brave, too."

Emma blinked. "Are you talking about me?"

"Important," Hannah said, nodding. "Catalyst likes you."

Emma shifted a little. She didn't know what that meant, but it put a strange feeling in her stomach. Something at a crossroads between dread and enticement. Whatever it meant, she didn't think she liked it. She didn't particularly think she wanted to find out, either.

Hannah… seemed like a good kid. If a little strange. She seemed like a good kid who'd been through a lot, likely before all of this had even started. Emma felt for her. She was glad Hannah wasn't alone - though she reminded her a lot of herself, Lex was clearly a good sister. Protective, and she understood Hannah on a level no one else probably did. On that note, Emma figured she should level with Lex at some point, figure out how to decipher the more cryptic things the kid said. It was probably important, if they were going to stick together, especially since Hannah seemed to speak with some level of authority. She had to know  _ something. _

She'd said  _ catalyst _ before. Early in Emma's recounting of the first day, when Paul had come into Beanie's. Quietly, like she didn't think Emma would hear. Emma had also spotted her jaw clenching strangely when she'd recalled what Paul had first told her, like she was mouthing along behind closed lips. Like she knew what Paul had said.

Part of her was tempted to press, try and coax Hannah to explain. But Emma wasn't  _ clueless _ when it came to kids. Trying to force quiet ones like Hannah to speak up more just shut them off, and Emma wanted to keep her trust. Part of her didn't want to know anything at all. She could sit on that indescribable discomfort from the kid's messages for now.

Hannah was looking at her like she expected a response. Emma smiled a little awkwardly.

"I… appreciate that, Hannah," she said, unsure of what else she could possibly be thinking. She reached out to the bedside table for the TV remote. "Hey, do you like cartoons?"

"Mhm," Hannah nodded. 

"If you grab me the TV guide from over there we can see if there's anything good on."

Hannah squeaked softly, her hands flapping a little. She scrambled off the bed to retrieve the guide and delivered it to Emma, who scooted over a little to leave room next to her. Hannah sat and Emma studied the guide, flipping through channels. They ended up settling on a network showing old reruns of  _ Courage the Cowardly Dog, _ which was… creepy, to say the least, but Hannah seemed to enjoy it. She sat with her knees up, playing with her tangle bracelet absentmindedly. Emma smiled a little watching her.

Good kid.

A good few episodes' worth of time passed before Lex returned with a bang. She slammed the door open, rushed inside, and slammed it shut again, dropping the plastic bags in her hands.

"Lex?" Emma sat up. "You okay?"

"God, fuck," Lex muttered, pushing her hair back and leaning against the door. "That was fucking  _ weird." _

"What happened? Someone singing?" Emma's heart dropped. "You didn't let any of them touch you, did you?"

"No, no, that's the weird part…"

Hannah seemed to perk up, the same way she had when Emma had first arrived at the motel. "Invisible!"

Lex nodded. "Yeah, yeah. I went to the store on Peterson, picked up the shit Min needed. I got some clothes for us, too, don't tell her I used her card for that. Anyway, uh, in the parking lot I saw Mr.  _ fucking  _ Houston, of  _ all  _ people. Infected for fucking sure. And I  _ swear _ he looked right at me. He had to have noticed me, I  _ froze, _ he was  _ right there, _ but… I don't think he could even see me."

Hannah smacked her hands on the mattress, excited like she'd been vindicated, but Emma's eyes were wide. The name had caught her attention.

"Wait, wait, Lex, back up. Do you mean  _ Tom _ Houston?"

"Probably? He taught my shop class back at Hatchetfield High. Stopped when his wife died last year, that's when I dropped out. You know him?"

"He's… He's my brother-in-law."

"Shit, dude."

"Yeah. Small towns, huh?"

"Fucking tell me about it."

Hannah smacked her hands down harder on the mattress. "Invisible!"

"Right, yeah!" Emma shook her head, snapping back to the story. "He couldn't see you?"

"Nope. It was  _ so _ weird, he just…" Lex fluttered her fingers in the air. "...stared right through me. I even went up to him, waved my hand in front of his face and everything. Fucking  _ zip." _

Emma could picture it. Tom - poor fucking Tom - wandering this parking lot, probably stained in slime, with too-blue eyes like Paul's. Her imagination substituted a little melody for him to hum in place of whatever bullshit Hive song he'd probably sung. Lex freezing when she saw her teacher, slowly realizing that those empty eyes were only looking  _ towards _ her, not at her.

"Mr. Houston?"

Cautiously walking up to him, squeezing her knife in her pocket. Maybe catching a little bit of the barely audible lyrics he was muttering. Flinching when he moved, thinking he was going to grab her, but instead he just turned around. Confused, swooping around in front of him again, waving her hand right in front of his face. Had he flinched at the breeze she'd made over his nose? Or had he not felt anything at all?

It was an unsettling thought. Lex had stood there, confused, just watching Tom ignore her until he'd perked up at someone  _ Lex  _ couldn't see right away. A redhead in scrubs, she said, also infected. Pranced up to Tom and swept him away. Despite neither noticing Lex at all, she'd watched them pursue a passing group of surely uninfected shoppers with a sickeningly flowery duet. That was when Lex got in the car and came back, shaken the whole way.

"Maybe they were ignoring you on purpose?" Emma wondered. "I mean, my coworkers didn't even try to lay a hand on me until I realized they'd fucked with the coffee, maybe it's another blending-in long-con? Now that they've started in a new town."

"I really think they just couldn't see me." Lex said.

"But  _ why?" _

"Catalyst," Hannah breathed.

There it was again. God, that word sank in Emma's stomach like a boulder and she didn't even know why. She glanced at Lex for any kind of explanation, but the teen just shrugged. Well, Emma supposed she couldn't know  _ everything  _ her sister was talking about.

"Whatever the deal is, we can use it." Lex said.

"For  _ now," _ Hannah reminded.

"Yeah, yeah, for now. If  _ none _ of them can see me, I can keep lookout for us, I can go out without worrying.  _ Shit,  _ that means more errands…"

"I won't make you do errands for us, Lex." Emma laughed.

"Min will, though."

"Hey, at least she's paying you."

"For now," Hannah said again, her tone a little different.

Emma and Lex looked at her, then back at each other. Another shared shrug.

"Look, what you do with this while it lasts doesn't matter," Emma said, shaking her head. "The important thing is we  _ know _ they're around town now, and they're after  _ everyone. _ They took Hatchetfield in one day, we're not going to be safe here much longer."

"We have a car." Lex said. 

"I don't know where we can go, and I'm still injured. We've got  _ some _ time, we just have to use it wisely."

Lex nodded, sliding down the wall and sitting on the floor. Her foot tapped rapidly.

"Yeah. We'll figure something out."

"We'll stick together." Emma agreed.

They both looked at Hannah again. The girl twisted her tangle, glancing between the two of them with stony eyes. Her expression was borderline unreadable, but there was a distinct understanding in her eyes.

"For now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took a little longer! I had trouble with the flow, had to take a break and come back to it. I'm pretty happy with how it turned out, though!
> 
> Thanks for reading! <3


	6. she's a rebel, she's a saint

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics used from Last of the American Girls/She's a Rebel from Green Day's American Idiot

Paul sat on the curb at the corner of Pierce street next to Ethan, hand on his shoulder. They were singing;

_ "...she makes enough to survive for a holiday of working class," _

_ "She's a symbol of resistance,"  _ Ethan sang on his own before Paul came back in.

_ "She's a runaway of the establishment incorporated," _

Paul dropped out again.

_ "And she's holding on my heart like a hand grenade." _

Back in.

_ "She won't cooperate, well she's the last of the American girls." _

One verse was enough. Ethan breathed in. A woman walking by handed Paul five bucks.

"We're not buskers- eh, whatever." He pocketed it and turned back to Ethan. "How's that?"

Ethan opened his eyes and they were a little brighter. Blue dripped from his nose and he wiped it away. "All set. Thanks."

"This is the third time you've had to stop, are you sure you don't want to just grab someone to infect? It'll last you longer."

"No, I wanna find Lex first. It's stronger when you care about 'em, right? Be good for both of us."

Paul shrugged. "Apparently."

"Hey, you haven't got any extra numbers on me. How come I'm the only one gettin' tired?"

Ethan leaned over his knees, eyeing Paul curiously, and he shrugged.

"My energy comes directly from the Hive, I don't need what we get from infection the same way you do. Or, not as  _ much. _ That's also why we have more to give out like this." He coughed pointedly. "You're welcome, by the way."

Ethan rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, thanks for sharin'. C'mon, let's get goin'."

He got to his feet and grabbed Paul's arm, pulling him up. Paul huffed and followed behind.  _ "You're _ the one who keeps making us stop."

Ethan made his hand into a puppet, flapping it open mockingly. Paul sighed out a laugh. He caught up so they were in step again. 

They'd been going for about a day and a half (or maybe two-thirds, it could be hard to tell when the watch melted to his wrist didn't tick anymore). As of Paul's orders they'd taken it slow at the start. Spread as subtly as possible, kept the suspense as long as they could until the excitement reached its boiling point. The act was breaking a little sooner than Paul would've liked - he was honestly dreading the increase of attention he would inevitably receive with greater numbers - but the Hive was pleased, so Paul was pleased. 

The consistently droning buzz in his head was rather nice and drew out a quiet harmonizing hum. His cape drifted behind him with the breeze and Ethan glanced back, looking like he was about to make another comment, only to stop himself and furrow his brows.

"What?" Paul asked.

Ethan squinted. "Did you get taller?"

"...What?"

"Taller. You. I  _ swear _ I wasn't lookin' up this much before that last stop."

Paul blinked. He stopped, and so did Ethan. At 31, already six feet tall, Paul didn't imagine there was much more growing he had to do. Getting shorter was more likely. But actually stopping to look, Paul had to admit that Ethan was certainly… lower down than he remembered. Probably only by an inch or two, but they'd been fairly matched in height before. Paul had grown, noticeably, and fast.

"...Huh."

Any knee-jerk response Paul might've had to this development was massively dulled. Not feeling much of anything about it, he just shrugged. His shoulder slumped. Hands back in pockets. They kept walking.

Tires  _ screeched _ and a car slid into a stoplight on the curb a few blocks down. Moments later the passenger's side door opened and a woman stumbled out, running clumsily from the wreck only to be followed close behind by the driver and another passenger, both dripping blue. They pursued her in an elaborate dance step, shouting lyrics about family while she fled. As they passed Paul and Ethan's step shifted to match theirs, the music picking up. Ethan's eyes flashed and Paul grabbed the back of his collar before he could move. He held Ethan still despite the kid's scuffling feet, both tapping their heels with the new beat, until the pair on the street passed far enough and the pull faded. The song stayed in the back of their heads, but any urge to physically join was more of a minor itch than anything. Paul let go when he knew Ethan wouldn't move. They watched a little further down the street, catching three distinct silhouettes stop what they were doing and rush to join the ensemble. 

Ethan glanced at Paul, who went right back to walking in the other direction. He caught up. Paul sang along to the new song under his breath and it scratched the itch substantially. 

A few minutes passed before the running woman became one of them. Her name was Jill. That buzz swelled, completely filling Paul's head momentarily before settling again. His back straightened, his chest puffed out, and a small bounce that came and went from his step as was suitable, returned once again. Blue dripped from the corner of his mouth and he swiped it away with his thumb. 

Though he'd wanted to keep it slow, Paul hadn't realized how  _ good _ a steady spread like this would feel. Every new claim to the Hive was like a shot of euphoria straight to his brain. The others didn't feel it like Paul did - if he hadn't just known, Ethan's complete non-reaction would be enough to prove that. But Paul was connected in a special way. Strength grew with numbers, and Paul experienced the benefits of that growth directly every time. He could only imagine how good it would feel when he shared it with Emma, let alone once the whole planet was them.

"So," Ethan said suddenly, and Paul realized the song had faded out a little bit ago. "I told you some about Lex-"

Paul hummed.  _ "She's a rebel, she's a saint, she's the salt of the earth and she's dangerous." _

"Yep, that's my song. So, how 'bout your Emma? What's she like?"

"She's not ours- not  _ mine," _ Paul shook his head, the splitting pain so fleeting he couldn't be sure he'd felt it at all. "Not… Not yet."

He clenched his fists inside his pockets. He had to stop saying the wrong thing. The good feelings needed to  _ stay. _ He cleared his throat. 

"What we -  _ I _ \- meant was, uh, I don't know her that well yet. I was getting to know her, and we both thought it could be something. I still do, but we frightened her. Once we've made amends we're  _ sure _ this is what she'll want. Who doesn't want to be happy?" His thumbs traced over the stitching inside his pockets. A familiar rhythm was in his heart. "She's funny and smart, and just real authentic. I like her a lot. I hope she'll give us another chance to get to know her better. I think we can be h- _ happy togetherrr…" _

It might've been more rewarding if it had all been in song, but the Hive seemed to like when Paul  _ let it out. _ They hummed in his head and it felt like a friendly pat on the arm. Like understanding.

Or maybe Ethan was just patting him on the arm. Sometimes Paul forgot when he was physically  _ with _ people.

"Well, uh, hope that works out for ya, man." Ethan said. "Hope she likes dumb capes."

Paul groaned, slumping all the way forward so his entire top half hung down by the waist. "Let us  _ live,  _ Green. We like it."

"Sure, sure," Ethan yanked him upright and clapped him on the back, hard. "Just joshin'. Make it work for ya, fuck knows no one else could."

Paul laughed. He liked Ethan. He liked everyone in the hive, just by nature, of course, but a journey like this probably wouldn't be nearly as enjoyable with just  _ any _ random drone he had no history with. Ethan had been a troubled kid, and his loyalty to the Hive was a testament to how  _ good _ they truly were.  _ Everyone _ they touched was better off for it. Maybe a presence like his would help Emma come around. As an added bonus, Ethan was just  _ fun. _ His attitude and willingness to pick on Paul made for good banter. They were just the right kind of odd duo for this point in the story.

At the very least, the Hive found them entertaining.

\--

Another street explored, another building being rushed of survivors, another few hours passed. No familiar human faces. Quite a bit of chaos, however.

It was difficult to keep up a casual travel facade when a majority of the town thought they had something to run from. A group of flustered, frenzied humans had barrelled through only a bit ago, managing to knock Paul clean off his feet in their hurry. He hit the ground, eating shit on the asphalt and suitably splitting his chin open. Blue oozed from the wound, tipping off the straggler who'd stopped to check if Paul was okay, and then immediately tried to kill him.

Fair enough.

Moving to a swift reflexive rhythm, Paul managed to grab his assailant's wrist as he advanced and swung, flipping the man over and hearing his head  _ smack _ on the pavement. Paul glanced back - the rest of the group had gone. Back to the man, lying unbreathing on the sidewalk beside him, red pooling under his head.

Paul suddenly couldn't recall how he'd gotten there.

No matter. Wasting no time, Paul collected a thick glob of slime from the inside of his cheek on his fingers and let it drip into the man's open mouth. Above them, Ethan flexed his clenched fists before grabbing Paul's arm and puling him to his feet, helping him dust himself off.

"That was quick," Ethan remarked, pointing at his own chin.

Paul brought a hand up and all that remained of the wound was a smear of blood that came off on his fingers. He rubbed it away. 

At their feet the man started to twitch, but it wasn't like they needed to be there when he woke. Paul dragged Ethan down the street and around the corner while he kept talking.

"Fuckin' cowards ran too fast, I wasn't sure if I should'a gone and killed 'em or stayed with you-"

"You don't need to worry about that, Ethan, the entire block they just ran to is full of us."

Paul walked them quietly into the nearby alleyway - he could feel Ethan's energy starting to run dry again. He'd have to recharge. Ethan leaned against the wall, crossing his arms, and Paul lounged across the space from him, absentmindedly rubbing at the blue that stained his fingers.

"Alright, good. I swear we'd better find  _ something _ soon, or I'm gonna-"

"Ethan?"

The boy froze. His head turned slowly. His heart and his breathing both stopped altogether as he processed who he was seeing.

Lex.

"Oh  _ fuck, _ Ethan… I knew they got you but seeing it is worse…"

She was standing on the curb. She was approaching them. Oh shit, she was coming right for them, not an ounce of hesitation. He was still frozen and speechless in shock, and now she was  _ right _ in front of him. He looked at Paul for guidance but the prophet just shrugged, struck by Lex's boldness. Her hands hovered close to Ethan, a mockery of touch, and she spoke to him like he couldn't hear her - like he was a coma patient. Paul was fascinated.

"You son of a bitch," she muttered, a soft somberness in her tone.

"Well that's fuckin' rude," Ethan finally managed to blurt.

Lex screamed.

She tore herself back, stumbling to put a good few feet between them, yanking a knife out of her coat pocket. She flipped the blade out, pointing it at Ethan.

"You can see me?"

Paul lent Ethan a share of confidence to make up for where he'd faltered and watched the boy's demeanor shift. His head tilted, loose and cocky. He jut out his knee, holding his weight on one foot, running his ungloved hand through his curly hair.

"'Course I can, babe," he said. "I was the only one who could before, right?"

"None of the…  _ others _ can! Why can  _ you?  _ How the fuck does that work?" Her eyes darkened, finally seeming to notice Paul also looking right at her. She flung her blade in his direction and he held his hands up. "And who's  _ this _ asshole?"

"I'm Paul. Hi." He waved.

"You're askin' a lot of the same question," Ethan said, brows furrowed like he was counting in his head. He didn't need his fingers to count three questions. "Paul's helping me out! He made you invisible to everyone else so  _ I _ could find ya, I got us in good with the prophet, babe!"

"The what? What the fuck are you talking about?" Lex yelled.

"I used the right word, didn't I?" Ethan asked, glancing at Paul, who nodded.

"Yeah, it's prophet."

"For fuck's sake," Lex rolled her eyes. "Earth to zombies!"

Paul bit back a correction. Not the time.

"Hey, c'mon Lex, just take a breath." Ethan said. "You don't gotta be scared no more, I'm right here! I've got'cha." He walked towards her, hands out, arms open like she'd run into them. "I've got Hannah, too, soon as you show us where you're hidin' her. Then we can hit the road, just like I promised.  _ We'll be Caaalifooor- M.I.A." _

"Yeah, right after you kill us, huh? I'll pass, thanks."

"You're makin' it sound worse than it is-"

"I  _ watched _ them strangle you!" Lex cried, voice breaking. "Ethan  _ died! _ He died and turned into you, and you're  _ not-!" _ Her head dropped down and she sniffled. "You're not  _ my  _ Ethan."

Lex scrubbed her eyes dry quickly, but the silence hung in the alleyway. Ethan glanced at Paul, again seeking guidance the prophet could not give. The Hive piped in to suggest brute force but Paul used all his strength to block it from Ethan's mind. The whole point of this was to do it the way  _ he _ had wanted to. Paul wouldn't take that from him, or worse, influence him to renounce it. Not yet, not when there was still a chance to do it peacefully.

_ "She sings the revolution, the dawning of our lives," _ Oh, Ethan was singing again.  _ "She brings this liberation that I just can't define, well nothing comes to mind." _

"What is this, what are you doing?" Lex raised the knife again.

"Would you attack me with my own knife, babe? That's some poetic shit." Ethan smirked.  _ "She's a rebel, she's a saint. She's the salt of the earth and she's dangerous." _

"Is that fucking Green Day?"

Ethan walked towards her, arms out again. Paul could feel how badly he wanted to wrap her up in his embrace and keep her safe in the hive. He slid further down the asphalt himself, trying to guide Lex closer to Ethan, if she would just follow the fucking choreography…

_ "She's a rebel, vigilante," _ Ethan continued, right in position to take her in his arms now.  _ "Missing link on the brink of destruction." _

He grinned, leaning in to hold her, but Lex veered in the opposite direction at the last minute, slashing the knife through the air frantically. Ethan stumbled back from the force of her shove, but almost directly behind her was Paul's mark. She bumped into him and shrieked, turning around on the offense.

Paul's useless breath caught in his throat. Blue dripped from the gash on his cheek, and though he could feel his skin beginning to heal itself closed again already, he could also feel the edge of the blade pressing into his throat. Lex glowered up at him.

"Fucking watch it," she snarled. "I've got  _ no _ problem killing you."

What happened next was a blur.

Paul caught the change in Ethan's eyes in the brief moment before he was at their side - the flash of bright cyan forming a ring around his irises before solidifying, consuming his gaze in empty blue.

_ Crack. _

"AAAAUGH!"

The pressure on Paul's throat vanished as Lex screamed. The knife clattered to the ground and she doubled over in pain, clutching her wrist, heaving for breath between clenched teeth.

"That's a warning." Ethan growled.

"You broke my fucking wrist, you nutcase!" Lex shrieked.

"I'll break a lot more if you fuck with him again."

"Ethan. Cool it." Paul commanded.

He watched Ethan blink, the empty glow fading back to their regular vibrant blue. His demeanor shifted again.

"Sorry, sorry. It'll heal up real quick when you join the hive," he offered softly.  _ "C'mon, rebel girl, what do ya say? Wouldn't you like me to take you away? We can be Califor-M.I.A." _

Lex was still breathing heavy through her teeth. Ethan waited, arms out to hold up her weight when she was ready. Paul watched, taking a few steps back. Before the girl could say anything, though-

"Lex!"

The shout was accompanied by the uneven pounding of running steps, like the owner was running on one bad leg.

_ Wait. _

Paul spun around and saw her before she noticed him. New clothes - comfy looking, a hoodie and dark jeans. Hair down, exhausted eyes. But it was her. She was holding onto the hand of a young girl.

"We're here, Hannah got worried, said you'd need help. I don't know how the hell she knew where to find you, but-

She stopped cold. Her eyes traveled up and met his.

"Oh my god," she said. "Paul."

He smiled. "Hi, Emma."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOO the gang's all here! this should be fun
> 
> Thanks for reading! <3


	7. the mind churns, the heart yearns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics used from:  
> Without You from RENT  
> The Wolf by SIAMES (again)  
> My Demons by Starset

There he fucking was again. Smiling that stupid empty smile. Looking at her with those stupid blue eyes. That stupid cape fluttering behind him.

And he looked…  _ longer. _

Emma felt her grip on Hannah's hand tighten. It wasn't that she'd  _ never _ expected to see him again… she wasn't sure  _ what _ she'd expected. Maybe someone else getting to her before she had to. Wishful thinking, maybe - at least then she'd be  _ happy _ to see him again, as fucked up as it might sound. That simplicity, to be thoughtlessly infected by a stranger, might've been easier than the mess of feeling brewing a quiet storm inside her chest just with him standing in front of her again.

The worst part was that his smile, smeared in slime as it was, still made her feel almost warm.

She shook her head, finally breaking eye contact, shoving that feeling down under all the negative ones, the ones that made sense. Why now, why here, why  _ him? _

"What are the fucking chances," she managed to verbalize.

Paul hummed.  _ "You could say it was inevitable-" _

"Don't." Emma snapped, her heart dropping into her stomach. "Don't do that."

Paul shut his mouth. The song died unceremoniously and he seemed to pull into himself, loose, blue-stained fists stacked on top of each other. "Sorry."

How was it worse that he listened to her?

"It's good to see you again," He offered softly.

Emma looked down. "Speak for yourself."

Hannah squeezed Emma's hand, looking towards her sister, like a reminder. "Not Ethan."

Emma tugged the kid a little closer to her side.

Lex was on her knees holding her wrist, some punk looking infected teen beside her. He looked up at Paul, his brows knit. Ethan, presumably. Instinctively Emma stepped back; she wasn't sure what had happened yet. But Hannah squeezed her hand again, and Lex spoke, way too out of breath to be anywhere near infected.

_ "That's _ your coffee guy?"

"Yeah," Emma sighed.

Paul beamed. "You told them about me?"

"Shut  _ up, _ Paul,"

"Who the  _ fuck _ are you guys talking to?!" Ethan yelled.

"I'm right here, jackass!"

"Oh! Uh, Ethan can't see you," Paul said, almost sheepishly. "Can't hear you, either. No one in the hive but me can." He gestured to Lex and Hannah. "He can see them, but no one else can. It's the same deal."

Emma just stared, bewildered, processing that. Could she have gone out with no one noticing her, like Lex had? God, what a dirty manipulation trick that was, luring them into a false sense of security just to pounce when they weren't expecting it. And how the hell had this random kid and  _ Paul  _ managed that?

"That's just a  _ thing _ you sing-song shits can do?"

"It's… a thing  _ I  _ can do," Paul said. "Among other things, but… yeah."

The cogs in Emma's brain were whirring so fast she'd swear she could see sparks behind her eyes. Son of a  _ bitch. _ Of course he had this power. Of course he was in charge. What a perfect cherry on top of this nightmare of a situation. Of course  _ Paul, _ who didn't like musicals, would end up not only happy to be infected, but also king of the fucking aliens, or whatever their system was.  _ Real _ Paul would hate this, the poor thing. Emma could only imagine his face if he could just  _ see _ himself. But real Paul wasn't here. Just this twisted, smiley, shiny,  _ fake _ version of him. The Hive's fucking-

"Catalyst," Hannah spoke suddenly, a whisper in the crisp air.

Well, Emma might have thought  _ plaything, _ but yeah, somehow that fit. Along with the returning dread in her stomach. Had Hannah meant Paul every time she'd said it?  _ Christ,  _ Emma had too many fucking questions that couldn't be dealt with right now.

At least she could find some solace in the way the word seemed to freeze everything.

Everyone was staring at Hannah. Hannah was staring at Paul. When Emma looked between them, she  _ felt _ something. Something ancient and complicated but all too simple. A conflict and a peace. Understanding and animosity.  _ History. _

Hannah slowly pulled her hand from Emma's and covered her ears. Emma met eyes with Lex. Lex glared up at Paul with venom in her eyes.

"Whatever you're doing to my sister, knock it off."

Paul shook his head slowly. "You should tell that to the spider."

"Spider?" Emma asked.

Lex and Ethan spoke at the same time; "Webby?"

_ "You _ know about Webby?" Lex continued on her own.

"Of course we do. The Hive's known her eons longer than any of you have." Paul crouched a little, specifically addressing Hannah now. "You, too. But you probably speak with her a lot more often than us, huh?"

Hannah's eyes were still locked with his, practically popping out of her head. Emma shifted her arm to guide Hannah behind her, giving Paul a warning look. He glanced at her, almost insulted

"We'd never hurt her," he said. "Poor kid's been hurt enough already."

"Paul, what the hell are you talking about?" Emma demanded.

Apparently he had no answer, suddenly blinking like a switch had been flipped in his head. He stood upright again, and Emma couldn't help but notice how uneven his shoulders looked. He smiled at her.

"Hi, Emma."

Jesus, what had they  _ done _ to him?

"Alright, whatever's going on is…  _ whatever _ and all," Lex said, staggering to her feet. "But if it's all the same to you  _ fucks," _ she spat at Paul and Ethan, "we're not gonna stick around to die."

Emma reached out, ready to pull Lex behind her too - though it wasn't like that would do much,  _ teenagers _ shouldn't be allowed to be taller than her - but Ethan grabbed her arm first. He was still on his knees, and he looked exhausted. He held onto her undamaged arm like he was pleading.

"Wait, Lex, babe," he said, evidently still strong enough to keep her from moving. "C'mon, you gotta stay with me."

Lex tried to yank herself free. "I don't gotta do  _ shit, _ you asshole! Let go!"

"Lexi, please," his grip clamored up her arm.  _ "Without you, the eyes gaze. The legs walk. The lungs breathe…" _

"Stop, stop it!"

_ "The mind churns, the heart yearns! The tears dry." _

"Ethan!"

_ "Without you… Life goes on, but I'm gone! 'Cause I die… Without you." _

Lex tugged against him again, otherwise unmoving. Her expression was twisted in anguish and Emma saw too much of herself, too clearly imagining thoughts she'd rushed through when Paul had sung to her. 

Her heart started to race.

"Lex, don't listen to him!" She turned to Paul. "Make him stop."

Paul had been tapping his fists with Ethan's song. "Why?"

Emma huffed. What had she expected? Hannah was still behind her, hands over her ears. Emma gave her shoulder a quick squeeze before limping down the alley to where Ethan knelt in front of Lex. She reared back and clocked him hard in the side of the face, shaking off the sting from the impact. He snapped back quick, bewildered, searching for the source of the blow.

"What the f-"

Though she probably shouldn't have, Emma took the chance and punched him again. His nose  _ cracked _ against her knuckles and he released Lex.

"Fuck  _ off!" _ Emma yelled, maybe a little too satisfied as he hit the pavement.

A concerned cry choked from Lex, watching blue blood pour from Ethan's nose. She started forward again before Emma grabbed her by the shoulders.

"He's- you just-" she stammered.

"Lex, no."

"But he's-!"

"No!"

Ethan propped himself up onto his elbows, smearing off some of the blood with his thumb. His eyes were glowing, pulsing, like a heartbeat. When he spoke it almost sounded distorted for a moment, like a busted radio.

"Whoever did that ain't playing very fair,"

Emma scoffed. As if the Hive played fair.

"Hey, your nose for my fucking wrist!" Lex yelled, righteously mad once again as if she'd forgotten for a second.

"That-! Was an accident," Ethan defended clumsily. "And I can fix it! Let me fix it!"

"Not fix!" Hannah cried suddenly.

He looked up at her. Emma watched him realize the new angle he could take and clenched her fists again.

"Hannah-"

"N-not Ethan!" Hannah shut her eyes tight. "Wrong! Bad!"

"C'mon, Banana Split," He sounded hurt. "You know it's me, don'tcha? Your ol' buddy Green Bean?"

Hannah shook her head. "Stop!"

"Hey, aren't we tryin' to be a family? I swore I'd help make things better for you two, I still can! It's  _ easier _ now, why won't you let me?"

Emma watched Ethan carefully as he spoke. It looked like just standing up would be too tiring for him, simply reaching a blue-dripping hand towards the girls. His other hand tapped on the ground, travelling on its own rhythm towards Lex's knife she must have dropped. He glanced up at Paul, who gave a look Emma couldn't read, and his hand stilled. His gaze returned to the girls. 

"We can help," he continued. "You just gotta let us - you gotta let the Hive."

Emma had been trying to back Lex up with her. The girl had stayed pretty stiff, and in the moments of silence that followed Emma swore her heart might explode. She squeezed Lex's shoulders,  _ knowing _ she was smarter than this.  _ Knowing _ Lex was enough unlike her to not even consider making this mistake. Lex had more to hang on to. But still, Emma couldn't know what was going on in her head. Still, her heart raced in the moments of pause.

"You're not our family anymore," The crack in Lex's voice was painful.

Barely leaving any time to process, she whirled around, elbowing Emma to follow before brushing past and snatching Hannah's hand, sprinting from the alleyway and around the corner as fast as they could. Emma stumbled, caught off guard, staying behind long enough to watch Paul shift, again, like the flip of a switch. Blue filled his eyes completely, nothing on his face even resembling Paul. Emma's feet wouldn't move as he dropped to his knees at Ethan's side.

"I can't catch 'em now, I won't make it." Ethan huffed, defeated. "Why won't they just  _ let us help…" _

"Make them." Paul's tone was empty.

He grabbed the boy by the back of his neck and pressed their foreheads together. He hummed, something low and dark that made the hair on Emma's neck stand on end. That same empty blue consumed Ethan's eyes too as he joined the melody. Blue dripped from his nose, his mouth, maybe his eyes, too - the glow was too bright to tell. His shoulders heaved.

Paul pulled back, blinking the glow away, the switch flipping again. He shook his head, recalibrating, and looked at Ethan like he was shocked at himself. 

He looked up at Emma. 

"What did you just do?" Her voice was much shaker than she wanted it to be.

Paul looked down at his own hands, then back up. "Emma, you don't understand-"

He couldn't continue before Ethan picked up the hum again. Emma didn't know what this kid was like before, but nothing of what she had seen was present anymore. He was as empty as Paul had been a moment ago. He got to his feet.

That was when Emma got her legs to move.

She shouldn't be running, it hurt, it  _ hurt, _ but she had no choice. 

Lex and Hannah waited, two blocks down, still unseen by any other infected. 

"Keep going!" Emma yelled once they were in earshot. "Paul did something, they'll come after us!"

"Boyfriends of the year, huh?" Lex scoffed.

Emma winced at that.

Lex waited until she'd caught up enough to keep going, crossing the street with Hannah in tow. No sense in waiting for the broken lights to change. Emma tried to focus more on running as gentle on her leg as possible, knowing she was the safest of the three to fall behind. Ethan couldn't even  _ see _ her, and something told her Paul wouldn't have it in him to actually attack her, even like this. She'd been right in assuming he was  _ different,  _ just not quite in how. 

Heavy footsteps pounded in the distance behind them. Emma stole a glance back to find Ethan gaining on them. Just Ethan, somehow even  _ running _ within some rhythm.

"Lex!" Emma yelled.

The girls looked back too, Lex shoving Hannah in front of her and trying desperately to run faster. Whatever adrenaline rush Ethan was on had to be powerful, because he kept pace without faltering from his rhythm.

_ "Ain't no fairytale, what I see in your eyes." _

Lex and Hannah turned hard to cross at the intersection, Emma trying to keep up while keeping eyes on Ethan. Her leg burned.

_ "Awaiting your mistake. Not too close, not too far." _

There were tears in the sisters' eyes, Emma could see them. Lex's knuckles were white, gripping Hannah's hand so tight. They didn't deserve this. They deserved so much better.

_ "Sneaking in the pain, every truth becomes lie." _

Lex suddenly diverted, rounding the nearest corner. When Emma caught up she was hugging Hannah tight. 

"Kelly- or Emma, whatever the hell your name is," Lex panted, scrubbing at her eye with the back of her hand, wincing at her wrist. "Take Hannah."

"What?!"

"If we- if we all stay together, he'll get us both. He can't  _ see  _ you, you can- you can keep her safer."

"Lexi," Hannah whimpered, clutching her sister's arms.

"Hey, I'll catch back up if I can, okay?" Lex smiled weakly, squeezing Hannah a little tighter. "This can only last so long, I think I can fight him off. I'll find you again as soon as I can, Banana, I promise."

"Lex, are you sure?" Emma shot a nervous glance behind them. He hadn't caught up yet.

Lex looked at her with clear, solemn sincerity in her eyes. "I trust you."

_ "I won't trust myself, once I hear your call." _

Lex dropped to the ground in front of her sister, eyes now frantic. "It'll be fine, okay, Hannah? You said we trust Ms. Hallaway, she'll take care of you." She sniffled, wrapping her arms around Hannah. "I love you so much, Hannah."

"I love you, Lexi," Hannah's voice trembled.

One more squeeze and Lex got back to her feet. Emma took Hannah's hand, and Lex gave her another solemn look, one that said very clearly something they wouldn't dare speak out loud.

_ If he gets me, don't let me get her. _

Emma nodded. 

_ "I'm out of my head, of my heart, and my mind, 'cause you can run but you can't hide. I'm gonna make you mine." _

Lex ran off as fast as she could go. Emma, with Hannah in tow, hurried in another direction, ducking the two of them behind a cluster of trash cans. She poked her head out, watching Ethan pass with no notice of them, and once his song was out of earshot…

_ "Out of my head, of my heart, and my mind, 'cause I can feel how your flesh now is crying out for more," _

...They kept running.

They ran until they found somewhere to stop. Not the motel, in the event Lex did get caught they couldn't go somewhere she'd know. Emma settled, pulling them into a miraculously empty bowling alley and pushing a few tables against the entrance, just to be safe. She checked every door she could find for locks, shutting them securely inside.

Once that was squared away, she sat down at a booth with Hannah and pulled the girl into her arms, letting her finally crumble.

\--

Paul sat alone in the alleyway. He'd been freed from the Hive's direct control the second they'd finished passing energy to Ethan, and now they were humming in his ears. He studied the knife still on the ground - Ethan hadn't taken it. 

Emma's expression before she'd run stayed behind his eyes, frozen in time. She was still scared. Still scared of him, she  _ hated _ him. He'd wanted to remedy that, he just wanted her to  _ understand. _ He'd made it worse. She never would now.

_ This is the second time now, Paul. _

"I'm sorry."

_ No, no. _

_ We should be sorry. _

_ We must be failing you. We must have done something. _

_ For you to prefer to let Emma hurt you. For you to cling to such an utterly  _ **_human_ ** _ pain. _

_ You're above that now, don't you understand? _

"Of course I do."

_ Then act like it. _

_ Tell us. _

_ What do you want? _

That question still kind of hurt. A lot of things still kind of hurt, Paul realized. The healed spot on his cheek where he'd been cut. His shoulder. His back. His jaw now, for some reason.

Emma's expression flashed in his mind again. That, too.

The Hive was right, he was clinging to pain. Clinging to the mere numb complacency he could feel in its stead - his old normal. But he didn't  _ need _ his old normal anymore, did he? Not when he had this. Not when he had them.

Not when he  _ was  _ them.

That pleasant buzz was back. The hum of their approval.

He would still convince Emma  _ his _ way. They could agree to that. Not a hand laid on her without her permission. Letting go of his own pain didn't mean he had to go back on that promise.

_ No need to hurt without her, though. _

_ We'll figure it out. _

_ She'll be happy with you soon. _

_ With  _ **_us._ **

Paul nodded. The buzzing grew, filling his head, He'd swear pouring from his ears. Coaxing him to vocalize his desire. It was easier when the lyrics spoke for him like this.

_ "Take me high and I'll sing, oh you make everything okay, okay, okay." _

The buzz filled his body. It became him. His eyes shone.

_ As you wish. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOOOOOOHOOOOOOO!
> 
> Thanks for reading! <3


	8. now the nightmare's real

Minnie Barker wasn't quite sure how she'd lasted this long. 

She'd had the miracle of a warning thrust upon her and ignored it like a fool, believing those poor traumatized Hatchetfield girls had just formulated some nonsense story to cope. She'd been understanding, of course, Minnie Barker was not raised heartless. She'd listened to their warnings and promised she'd keep her eyes out, so they'd stay put and not run into trouble and get themselves hurt. That Kelly with the bad leg couldn't have done well on her own, and Min knew well enough that Lex and Hannah had no place else to go. She'd given them lodging, let Lex work for her for as long as she could.

But now she knew it was real. 

The people who sang and danced were  _ not _ people. No  _ decent _ people Min had ever met, at least. She'd watched a pair of them rip someone's throat out and puke in the open wound, all smiles the whole time. That had been enough to get her to book it whenever she heard a single note.

Those poor Hatchetfield girls, who'd only told her the truth, had vanished. Min hadn't seen any one of them in the miraculous  _ two days  _ she'd managed to live through. She hadn't had any other family to worry about, her mind always circling back to the last few people she'd spent any time with. Wherever they'd gone, Min hoped she wouldn't have to see them in blue. Though, she didn't know how much longer she could survive to have a chance of that anyway.

Evidently, not much longer. 

She'd made it to the seemingly vacant park and stopped under the closest tree before realizing the area was not, in fact, vacant. It took her a minute or so to even notice him, his dark silhouette largely blending in with the darkening evening sky. She might have assumed he was another tree before he turned around. His eyes were bright under the shadows, blue glow like twin spotlights. The slime smearing and dripping from his face glowed, too, lighting up his features more clearly. His lips were moving - singing to himself.

Min hadn't seen one of them alone before.

She should have run - he hadn't even noticed her. But she stayed, crouched behind the tree stump, squinting at him. He took a few bouncy steps forward, turning his gaze up to the sky. The note he hit carried to her, but it didn't sound like any words she could understand. She peeked out further to get a better look.

He was the most  _ infected-looking _ infected person Min had ever seen. His eyes were brighter. His skin was bluer - there was a blue flush in his cheeks, shadowing under his eyes, somewhat resembling a drowning victim. The slime stains were something to note, too. Others Min had seen tended to clean themselves up at least a little once they'd finished using it. This one didn't seem to care, almost flaunting it on his face, his neck, his white button-up, his hands. Though the common infection tells weren't much compared to the way his body seemed…  _ wrong. _

His jaw held tense, like someone with a toothache. His shoulders slumped, one seemingly lower than the other. His head looked crooked, hanging loose on his neck and tilting slightly to the left. His slumped posture on top of this gave the impression he'd had a spinal injury before this that hadn't healed. Or perhaps, the healing hadn't stuck. His arms hung down awkwardly, hands flexing loosely to an unheard rhythm. The same his legs bounced to, it seemed. The rhythm wasn't the strangest part, though - more how  _ long _ he looked. His limbs seemed to stretch a little past the cuffs and hems of his fitted suit. He was  _ tall. _ Uncomfortably tall. Min didn't know what height the tallest man in the world reached, but this man was definitely the tallest she'd seen. At least six and a half feet, and that was only eyeballing it.

If the infection was aliens wearing human skin, this one didn't seem to quite fit in his.

Min was just backing up to slip away before being noticed, when a fallen branch  _ snapped _ under her feet. His head fittingly  _ snapped _ towards her, the spotlights of his eyes shining blue on Min's face. Her heart stopped. 

He smiled, and if it weren't for  _ literally everything else about him _ he might have looked friendly. The rhythm kept up as he started walking towards her, the contrast between the clear fit to a song and how  _ shambly _ his walk was oddly jarring. Min stumbled back. Of course the one time she couldn't get her legs to run straight away was  _ now, _ with this uncanny infected tree of a man coming right at her.

_ "Hellooo," _ he sang softly.

Min tripped over her heels and fell back. The man stopped, pulling his fists to his chest like her fall had scared  _ him.  _ She crawled backwards.

"Please don't h-hurt me," she tried, her voice barely coming out as a whisper.

His head tilted sideways even more, his expression puzzled. "We don't want to  _ huuurt you. _ We don't want to hurt  _ aaanyone." _

"I don't b-believe you."

"Sometimes we  _ haaave to," _ He tapped his fists together. The rhythm didn't falter. "Please don't make us."

"M-Make you?"

"You're  _ alooone, aren't you?" _ He held out his hand, palm and fingers stained with blue.  _ "Wouldn't you rather not be?" _

Min's heart was pounding. What did he know about her? Had he seen her around since the infection had started? Did he sympathize with her? What  _ was _ this?

…Why did she kind of want to take his hand?

"How long have you been  _ alooone?" _

Min looked down. She couldn't answer. She probably didn't need to. He was humming, something quiet and sympathetic. His hand was still up for grabs. Min felt her own lift off the grass, just for a moment. She pushed it back down.

"Do you want to have a family? Ours is very big, you can join it."

Her hand moved again. He looked at it curiously. Min's teeth chattered.

"It won't hurt." He said gently. "Nothing ever will again, we promise."

Minnie Barker realized why she'd lasted this long. And why she felt she could stop running now.

She took the man's hand.

It didn't hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Paul....
> 
> Thanks for reading! <3


	9. too much too soon

Hannah woke with a cold, painful gasp caught in her tight throat. For a split second her surroundings were blue, before fading into pitch black. The unfamiliar taste in her mouth vanished. She felt a pressure lift from her forehead and brought her hand up. She blinked against the darkness.

"Webby?"

A familiar set of eight purple eyes opened, gazing down at her. Hannah pulled her hand back, a dim blue glow lingering on her finger where she'd touched, like a firefly. It evaporated. Her pounding heart plummeted and she swallowed thickly, gagging as she pieced together what the strange taste had been.

She hadn't  _ seen _ anything this time - nothing recognizable at least - but she'd been put in his head again. His presence in the Black and White, the energy he had was stronger now. She'd felt it. In his head it had been bright and blue and cold and  _ loud. _ A near completely incomprehensible  _ nightmare, _ except for one thing. A whisp, a ghostlike image that seemed ever present. Hannah saw it clearly once, only for a second, but she was sure of what it was. Kelly -  _ Emma,  _ smiling and laughing. Tired, stressed, but a little more at ease. A soft look in her eyes. The  _ yearning _ that cloaked the image was so palpable, Hannah could almost still feel it.

Despite the uneasiness she knew she was meant to feel, she frowned, squinting up to meet Webby's gaze.  _ This _ was the most she'd been given since being separated from Lex,  _ days _ ago, and she already knew about it. She didn't  _ need _ this, and she could guarantee Emma didn't either. Was… Webby trying to say she was ready to share more? 

"...Lexi?" Hannah prompted tentatively.

Webby blinked excruciatingly slowly. Her spindly leg reached out and patted Hannah on the head, in silence. Hannah scowled, about to speak again before her deity's eyes vanished from the darkness, which dissolved quickly after, leaving her in the dim staff lounge of the bowling alley, sitting up on the sofa. She clenched her fists and grumbled in frustration. Her heart was still  _ pounding, _ and for  _ what? _

She glanced down at Emma, snoring on the floor below her, a spare cushion under her bad leg. That yearning feeling had been powerful.  _ Fine, _ Hannah wouldn't brush it off. Everything Webby showed her had to be for a reason, even if it seemed obvious. For all she knew Emma could be oblivious like Lex had been about Ethan at the start. Probably  _ not, _ but whatever. Hannah could still be mad about it. 

She crawled up over the arm of the sofa and onto the floor, too rattled to go back to sleep. She squinted, padding carefully towards the smashed-open vending machine and piles of snacks she and Emma had set up the other day. No point paying for shitty snacks when the world was ending, Emma had said. Hannah plucked a bag of barbecue chips from the spread and crept out of the staff lounge.

She nearly tripped on the infected corpse under her feet. She squeaked in fear and dropped her bag, skittering around him, her heartbeat just refusing to settle. His eyes were open, empty blue dimmed, work uniform stained with blue. He wasn't  _ active, _ not anymore, but Hannah swore his fingers twitched to a beat. Hands flapping anxiously at her sides, she frantically shoved the corpse back into the storage closet where Emma had put him. He was heavy, and it took all her body weight to shut the door with him inside. She panted, holding up against the door after it latched. She pulled away tentatively, snatching her chips off the floor and rushing away before it could fall open again.

The main lights were on, they'd figured it would be safer to keep at a few sources of light at all times, especially since the fuses hadn't gone out yet. Hannah flung herself into a booth in the bowling alley's dining area and took a moment to try and calm down.

So much so fast. Too much. Too  _ soon. _ Hannah didn't  _ want _ anything about the dumb Catalyst when she'd gotten nothing at all about her sister. Especially when Webby had said nothing to warn Hannah that Lex would be separated, given her nothing to try and  _ stop it. _

All she'd done from the moment Hannah met eyes with Paul for the first time was  _ scream. _

After that it was radio silence. She wouldn't even tell Hannah if she would  _ see _ Lex again. Vague warnings could be frustrating, but  _ nothing _ was infuriating.  _ Terrifying. _ And Webby  _ knew, _ Hannah was sure she did. She'd have said to wait if she didn't. At least, she should have after last time.

It was _her_ fault, Hannah thought. After doing nothing to warn them, the _least_ she could do was tell her prophet something. _Anything._ _Cruel_ spider. Unfair. Useless piece of _shit-_

The lights flickered. Flashed, brightened, sizzled. Hannah gasped, releasing her fists, and it stopped. She took a deep, shaky breath. Drew her palms over the smooth, cool surface of the table. Managed to settle down. Sighing out, she crossed her arms around herself and sunk down in the booth seat she'd claimed. She could still fume.

A minute or so later, Emma trudged out of the back like a zombie, rubbing her eyes.

"You okay, Hannah?" She mumbled, bumping into one of the tables. "The - ow - lights were flashing and you were gone."

"Okay," Hannah replied.

Emma slid into the booth across from her. "Did something happen?"

"Bad dream."

"Oh. I'm sorry. Was it… about your sister?"

Hannah huffed. "No."

Emma pushed her hand through her hair sleepily, clearly trying to wake up enough to be able to help. "Is it something you wanna talk about?"

There were a lot of things they should probably talk about.

"...Later." Hannah said.

"Okay. That's okay. I can stay with you, still, if you want, or-"

"Please?"

Emma blinked. "Hey, yeah. Of course."

Hannah pulled her bag of chips open slowly, watching Emma sit back. They were both massively out of their elements here, that much was plain. Not that Hannah had ever  _ had  _ an element, really, but she'd always had Lex. Now she didn't. And Emma wasn't like Lex. In some ways she was, but on the whole Emma wasn't like anyone else Hannah knew. According to Webby, in a lot of ways, Emma wasn't like anyone. Hannah knew that had just as strong a chance of being bad as being good. She hadn't even known Emma's real name until a few days ago.

**Timeline splitter.**

Hannah shook her head. Emma was the best she had right now, and  _ Lex _ trusted her. That was more important.

\--

"Emma?" Hannah spoke softly after maybe forty minutes of silent company.

"Hm?" Emma sat up, rubbing her eyes.

Hannah tapped her fingers against her elbow. She probably should have asked this earlier, but it was something  _ Webby _ usually would have filled in for her. With nothing at all, the possible answers made her nervous. "Why'd you lie about your name?"

"I didn't, technically," Emma sighed as she leaned forward. "When the army picked me up, they gave me a new identity. I was supposed to be transferred to Colorado as like, a survivor protection sort of thing, to keep what really happened in Hatchetfield secret.  _ Legally, _ Emma Perkins is dead and my name is Kelly Hallaway." She pushed her hair back, looking down and twirling a lock around her pinkie slowly. "It's not like it matters anymore, but it's on all my cards, I just thought it would be… easier."

Easier.

Emma's downturned eyes were sad. It reminded Hannah of when they'd rounded that corner and come face to face with Paul in the alley. 

Reading between the lines wasn't Hannah's strong suit. Dimensional lines were much easier to decipher. But this time, she found the message pretty clear.

\--

Not much later, Emma headed back to the staff lounge and returned with two microwave breakfast sandwiches, a water bottle, and a cup of coffee.

"Thank God for whoever was stocking these up in there," she said, sliding back into the booth. "Thanks for feeding us, bowling alley stranger."

Hannah laughed a tiny bit, accepting the water bottle and taking a small bite of the egg poking out from her sandwich.

"I shoved a chair up against the storage closet," Emma continued. "It looked like  _ he _ was gonna fall out again, the latch on that door is definitely broken. It should stay shut now, though, I'm a real MacGyver, I know." She chuckled at herself.

They ate in silence for a few minutes before Emma suddenly spoke again.

"Listen, Hannah… I'm not the  _ best _ with kids, you've probably picked up on that-"

"Not that bad," Hannah said through a mouthful of egg.

"...Well, thanks. I do try." She offered a tiny laugh. "Anyway, uh, now that I'm looking after you, I was thinking… We should probably talk about all this, right? Not your nightmare yet, if you're not ready, but everything else. I know somehow you  _ know _ things, and I feel like they're valuable, so if you're comfortable, do you think we could talk?"

Emma's arms were folded on the table like she was settling down to listen. Her brown eyes were soft and intent, curious. Despite her apprehension, Hannah almost wanted to talk. More than she'd wanted to in years. But she didn't  _ like _ talking all that much. Too many words felt jumbled in her mouth and a lot of people weren't patient enough to let her take her time and put them together how she needed. They'd get angry or bored and move on. Not talking, or talking sparingly felt much better. People still got irritated, but at least there were no crowds in her throat. Hannah laced her fingers together, pulling her hands apart and pushing them together like an uneasy accordion. 

"What about this," Emma started again. "What if I tell you what I  _ think _ I've picked up on, and you can just tell me if I'm right or wrong? Does that sound better?"

It did. Hannah nodded.

"Okay, awesome." Emma drummed her hands on the table. "So, the  _ Catalyst _ you've been mentioning, that's my friend Paul. Right or wrong?"

"Right."

"Okay. Is Paul… the king of the hivemind? God, that sounds stupid out loud."

"Wrong."

Emma frowned. "But he's some kind of chosen one?"

"Right."

She dragged her hand down her face.  _ "Fuck,  _ that's upsetting… Is he, like, a vessel or a prophet or-"

"Prophet."

"Okay! Prophet, that's helpful, maybe. He's still getting orders from the mothership or whatever."

Hannah laughed. "Right."

Emma laughed a little, too. She pushed a hand through her hair, shifting it over one shoulder. "This is ridiculous." She rubbed at her tired eyes.  _ "Prophet. _ What do prophets do… Prophets speak for God, or I guess anything god- _ like, _ so that could count aliens. So the hivemind wants Paul to speak for it? Spread its will, or something?"

"Right. Bridge, globalize."

"Is there… anything we can destroy or kill to wipe it all out? Free everyone? Maybe there's part of the meteor left in Hatchetfield. Maybe if I finish the job it could kill the infection."

Hannah grimaced, hands tightening. There was an answer to that question, but it wasn't one Emma would like. Hannah didn't like it much herself. Emma seemed to get the message, eyes going from wide to sad to facing down, and shut.

"Jesus, I miss when I thought this was less complicated," She groaned, shoving her half-eaten sandwich aside and dropping her head on the table.

Hannah reached out and awkwardly placed her hand on top of Emma's head. Emma made a sound somewhere between a sigh and a tired laugh. She shifted her head, hiding the lower half of her face in her folded arms. Hannah kept her hand where it was and Emma smiled softly. A nice little moment passed. Hannah patted Emma's head and took her hand back. Emma reached out to hold it, giving a little squeeze. Hannah squeezed back.

"Thanks." Emma said.

She sat up straight again, giving Hannah's hand another little squeeze before letting go. She breathed in and swiped the corner of her eye with her thumb. She sighed, slumping back over the table.

"So," she continued. "How did you know about… me?"

"Webby," Hannah replied. "She said 'find Hallaway,' said you'd help. Important."

Emma nodded. "Okay. That's the spider Paul mentioned?"

"Right."

"Is she like the hivemind?"

Hannah's fists clenched. An angry rumbling sound filled her ears. The lights started flickering again.

"Webby is  _ not _ like the Hive."

Emma winced, looking up at the lights and back at Hannah, eyes wide. Hannah gasped and shook her head, and when the rumbling stopped so did the flickering. It wasn't just her that time.

"I didn't mean that, sorry," Emma spoke quickly. "I just meant… fuck, what did I mean…" she drummed her hands on the table rapidly. "I guess I meant, are  _ you  _ like  _ Paul?" _

Hannah took another breath, using the table's surface to calm her down again.  _ Too much, too much. _

"Right." 

"Okay. Okay." Emma kept drumming on the table. "So Webby tells you things, like clairvoyance." Hannah gave a puzzled look. "Seeing the future."

"Oh. Right." Hannah nodded.

"Do you know  _ everything _ that's going to happen?"

"No. Hints."

"That sounds irritating."

Hannah shrugged. Hints were better than  _ nothing. _ She watched Emma continue to tap on the table, eyes trained in her lap, in thought.

"Well, I hope I'm doing an okay job helping you," She said.

"Doing good," Hannah confirmed, and Emma smiled softly. Hannah repeated a little more pointedly; "Important."

"Who, me?" Emma laughed. "I mean, if I'm supposed to keep you safe, sure."

"Important  _ ally," _ Hannah pressed. "Catalyst likes you."

Emma grimaced. She shifted in her seat, not tapping anymore. "I know Paul likes me."

_ Ha. _

"Mhm. Bad dream."

"Is that what it was about? Me and Paul?"

"Mm…" Hannah's hum was unsure. "Kind of."

Emma hunched over the table, looking down with those same sad eyes. "I might've liked Paul  _ before. _ I don't like him like this. He's not Paul like this, just like your Ethan isn't Ethan. And if they got Lex she won't be Lex." She glanced up when Hannah sniffed. "Sorry. But you know what I mean."

"Mhm."

Emma sighed. When she continued her voice was quiet. "We can stop now." 

"Okay."

"It sucks here. This sucks."

"Sucks." Hannah agreed.

Emma sighed again and sat up. She looked at her unfinished sandwich with disdain and picked up the plate, glancing at Hannah's questioningly. Hannah stuffed a few more bites into her mouth and handed her plate over. Emma headed across the dining area and dropped them in the trash. Placing her hands on her hips, she stretched her back out with a grunt and looked down the steps at the bowling lanes. There were a few dusty balls still sitting in the return racks. Hannah wondered if Emma ever wanted to grab one and chuck it down a lane as hard as she could. There were no pins to knock over and none of the mechanisms were active, but Hannah kind of wanted to. She'd never been bowling before, anyway.

Instead of coming back, Emma walked down the steps towards the lanes. She set her toe out on one, checking the traction, and slipped off her sneakers and socks before taking a careful, barefoot step onto the lane. She laid down on her back. Hannah watched her just lay still for a few moments before getting up herself and heading back to the staff lounge. 

There was nothing to do at the bowling alley, but she'd had her backpack when they ran. She dug out one of her books - the third in the  _ Warrior Cats  _ series - and sat on the floor against the sofa.

\--

At least an hour passed. Emma may have gotten up and moved sometime in between, but when Hannah stashed her book and returned to the main lobby she was still lying on her back in the middle of the lanes. Hannah walked down the neighboring lane, passing the length of Emma's body before stepping over the gutters and plunking down cross-legged right above Emma's head. She poked her nose and Emma scrunched up her face.

"Hi, Hannah."

"Watch time?"

"Sure."

Emma sat up and they scooted off the lane, restoring her shoes before heading to the main doors and outside onto the steps.

The breeze was crisp and chilly. Emma zipped up her hoodie. She sat a little scrunched, elbows on her knees, eyes exhausted. She never really knew what to look for when they did this. Hannah didn't, either. They still did it.

"Has Webby told you anything about Lex?" Emma asked quietly.

Hannah huffed. "No."

"Sorry."

Hannah shrugged.  _ Realistically, _ the chances that Lex would come back uninfected weren't great. She knew that. But the radio silence had to mean  _ something,  _ and whatever it meant scared her. She wrapped her arms around herself. After a moment she felt Emma's tentative hand on her shoulder.

"Hey, I know it's not really the same, but… I know how it feels to lose an older sister. We weren't as close as you and Lex, I hadn't even seen her in years, but… while it's up in the air, if you ever need anything, I'm here." Emma's voice was soft. She squeezed Hannah's shoulder. "We're definitely on the same page about losing someone to the infection either way, and it  _ sucks. _ I know you're scared, and I don't want you to feel alone. You can be quiet, but you don't have to be alone."

Rubbing the pads of her thumbs over her nails, Hannah quietly scooted a little closer to Emma. And a little closer. A  _ little _ closer. She dropped her head on Emma's shoulder, and felt Emma's arm actually wrap around her. Emma hugged differently than Lex. More cautious. Her arms were stronger, but while Lex's hugs were protection, Emma's felt more like an invitation. Like a promise they were being vulnerable together. It was the kind of different Hannah needed right now.

"Thanks," Hannah said.

"Sure."

Emma offered a gentle pat on the back and the embrace parted. Hannah stayed sitting close, though. They kept watching.

A trio of infected pranced by, the song shared on their lips carried far through the air of Clivesdale in an uncanny echo. Hannah wondered if Ethan was singing it, maybe Lex, too. 

She glanced at Emma, trailing the small group with dark, thoughtful eyes as they danced. The song was everyone's it seemed, but this trio's performance was their own. They'd stopped moving with purpose, like the sidewalk was their stage and Hannah and Emma were the audience they couldn't see. With lifts and spins and pirouettes, it was kind of funny how much they were showing off when they didn't even  _ know  _ they were being watched.

Emma apparently thought the same, laughing a little. "Idiots."

That was when they stopped.

All three of them turned in unison, looking right at Emma with big, blue grins.

Hannah's heart stopped.

_ "Hi, Emmaaa!" _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh ohhh.....
> 
> thanks for reading! <3


	10. put your hand in mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a little bit excited about this chapter haha I hope you enjoy!!
> 
> Song lyrics used from:  
> HYPNOTIZED by AViVA  
> Make You Mine by PUBLIC

"What?!"

The shriek escaped Emma before she could think to stop it, but it wasn't like it mattered. They could  _ see _ her. Her first instinct was to grab Hannah's hand, her second to drag them up the steps. The trio on the sidewalk - two women, one in shades and one in a headscarf, and a man in a beanie - just stared at her with blank grins, not even advancing.

"I can't believe we found her!" Beanie exclaimed.

"Of course we did," said Shades.

Scarf chimed in;  _ "It was inevitable," _

Emma stumbled to her feet, nearly tripping over the top step. Her knees were shaking. "Fuck, fuck, fuck,  _ shit," _

She tried to usher Hannah behind her but the girl just clung to her arm.

"Paul will be so happy to see you, Emma." The perfect unison they spoke in was bone chilling.

"Paul can fuck off!" Emma yelled, pulling Hannah to the entrance, only to find the storage closet corpse she  _ thought _ she'd fittingly disposed of slamming himself against the glass doors from the inside. "Shit!"

She backed up. The corpse was… still a corpse, it seemed. At least, more of a corpse than the  _ other _ presumed dancing corpses that were the infected. He moved more loose and limp, only slowly becoming more articulate. His expression was somehow more blank, like nothing of who he'd been before remained at all. His eyes were a wide, solid, glowing blue, like Paul's had been when he'd set Ethan on them - when he'd looked  _ empty. _

Jesus Christ, how many times did these things have to be killed for it to  _ stick? _

Hannah clung to Emma's arm so tight Emma could swear she was cutting off blood flow. Her eyes were squeezed shut.

"Webby?" The crack in her voice was full of fear.

Emma could feel her heart pounding as she glanced back at the zombie slamming himself against the inside of the doors. She moved Hannah back to the steps.

"It's okay," her voice shook, "We'll run, we'll find somewhere else-"

"Oh, he was right," remarked Scarf.

"You  _ are _ funny!" Shades giggled.

Emma ran, Hannah in tow. The trio stepped aside to let them through. There was nowhere to go, but they ran anyway. Out of the lot, across the street and down the block, blue eyes on them all the while.

"Fuck, I'm sorry, Hannah!" Emma yelled.

"Couldn't have known!" Hannah cried. She threw her head back as they moved, her next words coming out a painfully echoed wail. "Should have! Should have  **told me!"**

_ Webby, _ Emma thought.

Voices surrounded them as they ran, blue eyes staring but not pursuing.

_ "Try and walk away, but you cannot escape. Too late now, made your choice, like I said, too late." _

A row of infected lining the street thrust out their hands right as Emma and Hannah passed - a choreographed move. There couldn't be humans anywhere else in Clivesdale like this. They were the only ones, probably even further into Alden.

_ "Get back, get back, think you're safe, but you're tripping because I said-" _

Hannah suddenly stopped, covering her ears and letting out a wail. Too panicked to even pause, Emma yanked her upright again.

_ "We don't want you here. We don't want you here." _

They rounded the corner at the end of the block and ran smack into - who would have fucking guessed it, two more infected. Tom - of  _ course _ it was Tom, of course  _ this _ would be the first time she saw him since the celebration of life - and who with him but Becky Barnes. Were they not both  _ fucking possessed,  _ Emma might have been angry. Instead she yelped, pulling Hannah into her chest and backing up. They advanced.

_ "Come join us, we want to play. Tell us all your fears." _

Emma pulled Hannah with her, backtracking to the left. They tried to slip into an alleyway, blocked by Nora and Zoey.

_ "You don't want to run away, now it's crystal clear." _

Turn and run.

_ "Can't you see you're hypnotized?" _

Hannah ripped her hand from Emma's to cover her ears, still keeping up.

_ "Locked inside those lies. No, don't you go out at night." _

Hannah stumbled to a stop. Emma tried to get her to run again but she yanked out of her touch, hands tight over her ears.

_ "You'll end up hypnotized, hypnotized." _

Hannah's scream sent a shock out to everything within thirty feet of her. The street lights flickered, some blinked out entirely.

"Hannah?!" Emma dropped to her knees beside the girl, only to be shoved away again. 

Emma shifted to try and shield the girl proactively without touching. Hannah pulled in a hard gasp and when her eyes opened, dark irises were white, surrounded in pure black.

_ Webby. _

She stood and ran Hannah's body off, to a clear struggle from the unwilling vessel. 

"Emma!" Hannah yelled, reaching out like she was being restrained, though her own legs were carrying her away. "Emma, help!"

"Hannah!" 

Emma scrambled back to her feet and ran to try and catch up, only to be blocked by another group of infected when she hit the curb. None of their gazes followed Hannah.

Could they still not see her?

"Emma!" Hannah screamed, still fighting her body.

Emma couldn't pass the ensemble. They backed her up, further from where Hannah was moving, though she struggled to reach the girl until she disappeared behind a building in the distance.

_ "Hannah!"  _ Emma's throat burned. She couldn't possibly understand what had just happened.

The ensemble still advanced, nearly sending Emma stumbling off her feet until she swallowed her terror, blinked back the hot sting of tears, and turned on her heel, sprinting in the opposite direction.

\--

The infected trailed Emma, chasing but  _ not, _ up into a circle clearing at the center of Clivesdale. The road looked empty but for the patch of lawn displaying the statue at the center - a horse, likely some town joke about the breed of horse their town's name rhymed with.

She watched, backing further into the center of town as ensemble surrounding her began to disperse. Panting, she tried to catch a glimpse of where Hannah had gone, finding nothing. Her heart pounded, leaping out of her chest when she stumbled smack into the back of someone standing near the statue. Or rather, their legs. Her instinctual apology caught in her throat as she realized she'd run into a  _ very _ tall man in a clearly unfitted suit. 

And a blue cape.

The pieces clicked together right as he turned around.

"Em- _ maaa!" _ Paul sang happily, and reached for her hands, but they'd flown to cover her mouth as she gasped at the sight of him.

The Paul standing before her was  _ barely  _ a Paul she recognized. He'd already been so tall before, but now he  _ towered _ over her, at the very least an extra foot of height gained, surely more. He didn't even stand straight, slumped unevenly like his spine struggled to hold up his weight. His body was like a broken doll's, too-long limbs dangling from loose joints. His pointed, blue-stained fingers twitched to an unknown rhythm by his knees. When he tilted his head curiously it seemed to swing sideways, only attached to his crooked neck by a single screw. He stared down at Emma with hazy eyes so blue they weren't even trying to look like those of a human anymore, though it wasn't like there would be much of a point anyway. Once white scleras bled a solid, dark blue, his irises a blindingly vibrant cyan, so bright Emma couldn't see his pupils at all. They leaked, a light blue substance dripping down his cheeks like tears. Not quite the same as the darker slime coating his face, dripping from his nose, his mouth, his ears, staining his shirt. God, he was a mess.

Emma's heart was pounding just at first glance. Yet still, though every instinct in her body screamed not to, that this wasn't her Paul, that there was clearly nothing of him left anymore… something else egged her on. An ache in her heart for the man who had been transformed into this cruel exaggeration, this  _ mockery  _ of a human being. They just had to rub salt into the wound, didn't they?  _ Having _ Paul wasn't enough, they had to physically change him into this  _ thing. _ They had to make Emma hurt for him. Slowly, against her better judgement, she pulled her hands from over her mouth and took a step forward. 

"Paul," she breathed, reaching up towards him.

She couldn't quite reach. He met her in the middle, bending down so she could take his cold, blue face in her hands. He nuzzled against her touch like a cat - even letting out a soft, purring hum. The glow of his eyes brightened.

"We knew we'd find you easier this way, but that was so fast! Were you looking, too? Are you happy to see us this time?" Somehow the humming sound kept up as he spoke. "We're really happy to see you!"

If Emma were in a quicker-thinking headspace, she might have replied that he was  _ always _ happy to see her. Instead, she was too busy staring at his  _ teeth. _

Talk about pronounced canines. Paul's teeth had shifted, sharpened into points - into  _ fangs _ \- that looked like they could rip through someone's flesh easily. Whether he'd done that or not, Emma didn't know, and she'd rather not do too much thinking on it. Still she didn't pull away. She drew her thumb over his cheek, noticing how the blue flush in his face deepened. He hummed a little louder. That all-too-familiar sting returned to Emma's eyes and she couldn't hold it back this time. She choked on her sob, letting her head drop, and felt Paul's hands come up to hold her arms. She hated how gentle he was.

"Hey, it's okay! You'll never have to be sad or scared again now. We can finally show you everything!" He spoke on a beat. An excited, cheerful beat that was  _ almost _ cute. Almost.

"Wh-what?" 

Emma brought her hands down to scrub at her teary eyes, backing out of his touch. She didn't stray far, though.

"Well, you're ready now, right?" Paul asked hopefully. "Our hive found you and lead you to us, and you came! You're here with us and you're ready to accept apotheosis and stay!"

Emma shook her head, not trying to humor him for even a second. "No, Paul, who is  _ we? _ What  _ us _ do you mean? You and me?"

Though his brows creased with confusion, Paul's smile didn't falter. He gestured to himself. "Us. Paul. We're Paul."

Something about that brought the hot sting of tears right back to Emma's eyes. She tried to blink them away, watching Paul's deformed, blue-stained shape blur. Her lip quivered and she fought desperately to keep her voice from shaking.

"You're one person, Paul," She managed.

He looked at her like he genuinely had no clue what she was talking about. Not even just like he didn't believe her, like he couldn't comprehend it. 

He repeated, like she was the one confused; "We're Paul."

Emma crumbled again, harder this time, the weight of her sobs making her double over. Paul grabbed her hands, hunching his too-long body to stay level with her. Now he held her face, hands cold, staining her cheeks with blue. He pressed his forehead to hers gently, humming an admittedly pretty tune in a confused, clumsy attempt to soothe her. Emma was too overwhelmed to do anything but cling to his arms and cry. 

"Don't be sad," he hummed. "You're with us now, it's okay!"

Emma couldn't fathom why he  _ thought _ she was upset. She  _ wished _ it could be as simple as he seemed to think it was. She wished this could be comforting to her. She wished she could scream at him that it  _ wasn't, _ but she was trapped in a horrible limbo between being terrified and wrapping herself in his long-limbed embrace. Paul's arms had cemented themselves as safety that day, even when he was like  _ this, _ she couldn't help that lingering feeling.

Paul shifted, placing a soft, blue kiss on her forehead, and something inside her cracked. Her sob caught in her throat, stunned sniffles the only sound she could manage as he started to sing.

_ "Well, I will call you darlin', and everything will be okay, 'cause I know that I am yours and you are mine."  _ Paul's voice was gentle but strong. Slime glistened on his pointed teeth.  _ "Doesn't matter anyway. In the night, we'll take a walk, it's nothing funny - just to talk." _

He drifted back, towering over her again, and held out his hand. Emma's wide eyes flicked from his hand to his face. Heart pounding, tears still rolling down her cheeks.

_ "Put your hand in mine,"  _ he brought his closer and, still stunned, Emma took it. He pulled her close, prompting her to step up onto his feet so they could reach each other better. He walked them in a waltz step around the center of town.  _ "You know that I want to be with you all the time." _

Emma stumbled, nearly falling off his feet, but he held her tight. She gripped his arm. "Paul, s-stop-"

_ "You know that I won't stop until I make you mine." _

Paul moved with the precision of an expert dancer. He carried her gracefully on his feet, managing to maintain an air of flawless connection between them in spite of... everything. He swept one leg out and Emma found herself twirling, toe-on-toe, caught in a low dip before she could even process her own movement.

_ "You know that I won't stop until I make you mine." _ His smile was sweet. Emma winced at the cold as he nosed her cheek affectionately.  _ "Until I make you mine." _

He leaned in again, clear enough what his intentions were, and Emma failed frantically, shoving out of his arms and falling on her ass. Paul knelt to help her back up right away, but she pushed his hands away. He elected to sit beside her on the vacant street, spindly legs folded awkwardly, hands tapping on the pavement. Emma wiped her eyes.

"What's your fucking game here?"

"We want you to be happy." Paul said. "You'll be happy with us. We can love you just like we could have before, just like you deserve!"

"Not  _ you, _ Paul." Emma stared at the ground. "I'm asking the Hive."

Paul laughed softly. "Same thing."

"Don't  _ say _ that…"

_ "It's truuue," _

"Stop!"

Paul stopped. His hands still tapped. Emma watched them, connecting the rhythm to the song he'd been dancing them to. He kept singing, softly.

_ "Well, I have called you darling, and I'll say it again, again. So kiss me 'til I'm sorry, babe, that you are gone and I'm a mess." _

"Paul…"

_ "And I'll hurt you and you'll hurt me, and we'll say things we can't repeat." _

Emma reached out and stilled his hands on the pavement with her own, holding them down. Paul looked at her, the blue flush of his cheeks deepening.

_ "Put your hand in mine. You know that I want to be with you all the time." _

Emma reached one hand up to cover his mouth, muffling him into humming. Against the asphalt, Paul laced the fingers of her other hand with his. Pointed nails grazed her skin, but he was gentle. He reached up and pulled the hand covering his mouth down. He smiled softly.

_ "You know that I won't stop until I make you mine." _

Emma looked away. More tears stung her eyes, no energy left to keep them from dripping down. Paul gingerly lifted her chin to face him again, brushing her tears away with his thumb.

"Why are you so sad, Em- _ maaa?" _ He asked softly.

_ "Why?" _ Emma's voice shattered in disbelief. "Paul, are you listening to yourself? Have you fucking  _ seen  _ yourself?"

He blinked, wide-eyed, puzzled. He looked lost, and Emma realized he  _ hadn't _ seen himself. He had no idea what he looked like. None of the Hive had probably batted an eye at the changes - they were  _ their _ fault. Paul had no clue. Emma slowly got to her feet, reaching out her hands to pull him up, too. Her head followed him all the way up and she sniffled. Though her voice still trembled, she tried to speak gently.

"Paul, you remember how tall I was compared to you before, right?" He cocked his head. Emma reached up, further than she should have to, and pressed her palm to the middle of his chest. "I was here on you. I'm barely above your belt now, and I don't think I fucking shrank."

"Oh." It was like a verbal shrug. "Is that it?"

Emma was taken aback. Didn't he  _ care? _

_ "No, _ that's not it, I don't- I don't have a mirror, but Paul, if you could  _ see _ yourself-"

"It's how we're supposed to be." Paul insisted.

"Stop saying shit like that!"

"Stop telling us to lie!" Paul took Emma's hand still pressed to her chest, closing it in both of his own. "Why won't you believe us?"

"Because all of you fucking  _ lie!" _ Emma yelled, ripping her hand away. "You lie and you kill people, that's your whole thing! Your stupid punk lackey lied to Lex and has probably ripped her to pieces by now!"

"What, Ethan? No he hasn't." Paul dug in his pockets for something. "He didn't even take his knife, look."

He held out a flip knife. Emma snatched it to get a closer look, recognizing it as the one Lex had been carrying around before.

"What difference does that make?"

"He didn't want to hurt her. Just like we don't want to hurt you, Em- _ maaa." _

"It wants to kill us all."

"Temporary death of the body strengthens the unity of the collective," Paul spoke like he was reciting. "Ideally the individual self is only assimilated, not terminated."

"Ideally, huh?"

"It doesn't always work out like that."

"Duh."

"But it can this time! We'll make sure." Paul reached for Emma's hands again.  _ "You need to know, we'll take it slow. I miss you so. We'll take it slow." _

Emma let him take her hand again, though it was tense, ready to pull away in an instant.

_ "It's hard to feel you slipping through my fingers are so numb. And how was I supposed to know that you were not the one?" _

Their fingers laced together. Emma looked at the ground. Her thumb rubbed over the handle of the flip knife still in her other hand anxiously. She remembered the look on Hannah's face when she asked if there was a way to destroy the Hive. The first place her mind had gone. How much she dreaded that option.

She looked back up at Paul, leaning close to her level again. His blue,  _ blue _ eyes shined. His smile, uncannily wide and sharp and fucking  _ blue _ as it was, was still genuine. Emma squeezed her eyes shut.

"It's not painful?"

"Not at all." He squeezed her hand.

Emma pulled away gently, bringing her hand to his face instead, listening to that hum.

_ "Put your hand in mind. You know that I want to be with you all the time." _

Emma surged forward on her tiptoes, wrapping her arms around Paul, burying her face in his shirt. He stood stiff, not reciprocating. His arms hovered awkwardly like he didn't know what to do. Like he'd forgotten what a hug was. He hummed, though, that soft purring sound from before. Emma reached with her free hand and shifted one of his long arms around her. He followed her lead and hugged back, awkwardly draping himself around her. Emma relished the embrace. Maybe it was selfish, but she wanted this, just for a moment before she threw it all away. She held Paul tight and let him hold her, bringing herself back to that split second of true happiness she'd felt in the hospital before everything went to hell. 

She wished she didn't have to let go. But there was no other option. She flicked the knife open.

Paul stiffened around her as she plunged the blade into his chest. Arms still around her, he looked down, watching blue blood seep into his shirt. He looked at her, eyes wide. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks. She pulled the knife out and plunged it back in with a yell, stabbing him again. Again. He blinked, more blue tears of his own welling up in his glowing eyes. For the first time his smile died.

"Em- _ maaa?" _

Again. She shoved him back, the knife still in his chest, his entire front soaked in blue blood now. He lost his footing, hitting the ground with a visceral  _ crack  _ of his head on the pavement. 

Not a second passed before his eyes were open again, pure blue light shining up towards the sky. Emma watched his hand reach up, pulling the knife out as he sat up. He regarded it with indifference before dropping it to the ground and getting to his feet. He pressed his hand to his bloody chest and pulled it away, staring at what stained his palm from the multiple wounds.

Emma couldn't breathe as it sunk in what a horrible mistake she'd just made.

When Paul spoke, his voice carried a hollow echo.

"You just refuse to let this be easy, don't you?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOO!!! This was a fun one, again I really hope you enjoyed!
> 
> I've made a spotify playlist for this fic, that can be found here https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7CirerKcBk1KIIsq3sOhpi?si=8PybgPChS62c0YjP4vkRxw (if the link works, let me know if it doesn't haha)
> 
> thanks for reading! <3


	11. once there was a way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song lyrics used from Golden Slumbers by The Beatles  
> (Catch me being surprised this was a Beatles song because I've never heard the original version before hnndhfjd)

Paul strode toward Emma like he hadn't just been stabbed four times. Emma's heart raced. She backed up.

"I-I…" she stammered.

"Emma, Emma, Emma…" Paul tutted, though this was a different part of him - the Hive on the defense. "You really thought you had something there, didn't you? The bold third act twist where the love interest kills the hero. It's clever, really - you're very impressive," His finger slid under her chin and tilted her head up, as he leaned down to match her at eye level. His grin was wide and sharp. "But that's not how this story goes."

Emma stammered, eyes darting from the fallen knife to the stab wounds, already beginning to thread closed beneath his torn, bloody shirt. "B-but I-"

"Oh,  _ Emma!" _ He laughed, the echo carrying like the clang of church bells. "Did you  _ really _ think you could do away with us that easily? Haven't you been paying attention? Destroying our meteor couldn't get rid of us, and neither can your little stab-happy fit. We're here-" he tapped his own temple, "-for good."

The tears wouldn't stop. Emma hated it - she was crying too much, she was letting herself be weak in front of this thing  _ again. _ She couldn't even manage to tear her eyes away, staring up at him through burning tears, his eyes manic and glowing, slime oozing from between his pointed teeth. His cape blew back in the wind - if he looked like a supervillain before, this was him at his boss level. 

He knelt down and Emma shivered as he brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, drawing his sharp thumb over her cheek gently.  _ That _ felt like what she knew was Paul. Her breath hitched. The line between Paul and the Hive was so blurred at this point, she really couldn't blame him for being unable to separate himself when just a touch was enough to throw her off.

"Shh, shh… Don't cry, Em- _ maaa _ ." He hummed, the softness in his tone confusing her. "All we're trying to do is give you what you want."

"I don't want this," Emma protested.

"Without us he would be  _ gone, _ you know."

Emma's throat tightened. She swallowed.

"He was ready to throw away  _ everything _ for you, Emma.  _ We _ gave him his second chance.  _ We _ healed him. We showed him everything he could be, we gave him purpose. He's happy now, because he's  _ us." _ He looked into her eyes, studying at first, before his expression softened a little. Suddenly looking like the Paul from earlier again. "And yet he still wants  _ you." _

Emma jerked away from his touch. "So what?"

_ "So, _ think about the implications for a moment. We could take you whenever we want. There's no claim keeping us from you, not like the  _ other _ one. Every encounter, we've had our chance to do it the easy way, no conversation required, and every encounter you've left us uninfected."

"I've run." Emma said.

"Because we let you."

Emma's jaw set. She remembered Paul's face back in the hospital after she slapped him. The pain in his eyes that wasn't from the strike. The way it looked like he was saying something he  _ shouldn't  _ when he told her to run, like something was  _ fighting _ him. But he'd won.

_ "Paul _ let me." She said slowly.

Paul had let her run both times. He hadn't chased when Ethan had. When she'd rejected his kissing advances he stopped. Paul had always been the one who didn't want to hurt her. This shouldn't be surprising, but Emma felt like she was having an epiphany. Paul was losing himself to the Hive, but  _ maybe _ it was losing a little bit of itself to him, too.

As if on cue, he hummed, his eyes glowing brighter, his sharp smile widening. Less smug, more cheery. "We  _ are _ Paul!"

Emma's mind was racing. "So, what, you're admitting he's stronger than you?"

He looked shocked for a moment, then threw his head back, laughing that sharp, clanging-bell laugh again. It rang out, inhumanly loud, surely audible for over a mile in the distance. Emma almost covered her ears, but it died first, fading from a clang to a jingling giggle.

_ "So, _ what we're saying is... he said, the echo sounding smoother, less canned. "...be  _ grateful, _ Emma."

Her heart pounded in her throat. She opened her mouth to respond again, but fell silent when he wrapped his arms around her. She stiffened, feeling the still-fresh blood staining his chest seep into the front of her hoodie. Her fists clenched. This felt just like Paul's embrace, but something was  _ off. _ Too tight. Growing tighter. Long arms snaking snug around her body, a boa constrictor catching its prey. Emma gasped, feeling her windpipe begin to close. She pounded her fists on his back.

"Be grateful we  _ let _ you run for this long." He grumbled.

"Wait, no-"

_ "It would be so easy like this," _ he hissed, cold, poison breath brushing her ear.  _ "A quick kill and a kiss." _

"P-Please-"

"Unity goes both ways, you know. It's been  _ crushing _ to want this badly…"

Emma's vision was starting to fog. She hit him as hard as she could, gasping painfully, trying desperately to fight out of his grip. He only squeezed her tighter, the echo of his hum in her ear a death rattle. 

"Pa...ul… ple...as...e…" she choked. "D-do...n't… do th...is…"

The pressure released, just for a moment, and Emma swallowed as much air as she could.

_ "Emmaaa…" _

"Paul?"

He hummed. She felt his fingers combing through her hair. For a moment, in spite of herself, Emma sighed in relief. She collapsed against Paul, gasping, an ache shooting through her ribs. She clung to the lapels of Paul's jacket to steady herself, feeling him kiss the top of her head. It wasn't  _ soothing,  _ not the way he probably thought it was, but Emma couldn't help feeling a little safer.

And then his arms tightened around her again. The ache pulsed through her chest, a choking sound escaping her. Paul crooned softly in her ear.

_ "Golden slumbers fill your eyes…" _

Emma's heart dropped from her tight chest into her churning stomach. She gripped the back of Paul's cape, trying to pull him away, trying to wake him up for real. Still he didn't budge. This was so,  _ so _ much worse.

"No, no, no, no, Paul  _ please-!" _

_ "Smiles await you when you rise." _

_ "Paul-!" _ Her strained voice cracked.

Paul rocked her slowly.  _ "Sleep, pretty darling, do not cry…" _

Fog consumed Emma's vision, a throbbing, painful, breathless blackness. Her eyes rolled into her skull as she pounded Paul's back weakly.

_ "And I will sing a lullaby." _

Emma felt Paul press another kiss to her hair just before her vision went black. Her body fell limp in his arms and she lost consciousness.

\--

_ Emma is tired. _

_ Emma isn't thinking straight. _

_ Emma is making bad choices. _

_ Emma needs to sleep. _

Paul hefted Emma's tiny, sleeping form into a bridal carry and stood. Her breathing was shallow, her brows loosely knit. Her eyes were dark and tired. When she woke she would feel better. When she woke they could talk again.

Paul carried her out of the center of town, still humming his lullaby.  _ "Sleep, pretty darling, do not cry." _

He carried her until he met up with her brother-in-law and the nurse who accompanied him. Tom and Becky. He'd known Becky before, he was sure of that, but he wasn't sure why it mattered. He knew them both now. He passed Emma into Tom's arms carefully.

"Take care of her."

"She stabbed you." Tom said.

"Take.  _ Care. _ Of her."

Tom's eyes glowed to match Paul's and he shut his mouth. Beside him, Becky reached up and placed a gentle hand on Emma's leg.

"We will." She promised.

They left with her. Paul waited until they were out of his sight.

_ She can wait. _

_ She'll get her rest. _

_ She'll be here when we come back. _

Paul nodded.

"Let's find the other one."

The hive cleared the streets at his command. None of them had  _ seen _ the Omen with Emma, they hadn't seen her run away, but  _ he _ had known. The Hive had known just how to agitate the spider so she would flee. Separate her from Emma, to deal with on her own. Now that Emma was safe, it was time to find the girl.

Paul wandered the blocks, silent, but walking in step. The sun traveled down below the horizon, washing the sky in a brilliant purple twilight. He wanted to hum, to sing about how beautiful it was so badly, but it had to be silent. He had to follow the smallest sounds until he found her, and follow them he did.

Eventually he came to a curb, a sidewalk leading into an alleyway with trash cans set out on the corner. It reminded him of something. He wasn't sure what. Still, it prompted him to stay in place and listen for a few extra moments.

The softest rustling rattle came from one of the cans, like someone shifting from inside.

Paul strode quietly towards the cans, lifting the lid off one. Empty. He replaced it. Another soft rattle. Another lid removed and replaced. One more can on the corner. 

The lights of his eyes shone down on the cowering form of a girl in braids, clutching tightly to the fabric of her overalls. She stared up at him with wide, black-and-white eyes.

_ The Omen. _

Paul grinned. "Found you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! <3


	12. the itsy-bitsy spider

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter I'm excited for! Not as excited as I am for Nightmare Time tonight but, y'know!
> 
> song lyrics used:  
> my own rhymes adjacent to the itsy-bitsy spider  
> 1984 - AmpLive Remix by The Submarines

Hannah screamed. 

"Woah, hey, it's okay," Paul stepped back a bit. "We're not gonna hurt you."

Hannah whimpered, curling in on herself. Aside from the obvious - he looked like a monster who would hide under her bed - she could  _ feel _ the Hive's grip on him. She'd known it was strong, known his presence in the Black and White had changed because of it. Actually being face-to-face with him again, though, it was overwhelming. The blue light was so much brighter, so much stronger, giving off specs that resembled stars - no,  _ spores. _ He was burrowed so deeply in the Hive, it was hard to tell where  _ it _ ended and he began.

And suddenly Webby wouldn't shut up.

**"The Catalyst, the carrier, he will globalize…"** Hannah covered her ears, the words spilling from her mouth uncontrollably while Paul looked on in wide-eyed silence.  **"Wants to spread, wants to be whole, wants, wants, WANTS…"**

"You never stop, do you?" Paul said softly.

"Wh-?"

Hannah heard the soft clang of the trash can's lid being set on the ground. Paul tapped a tinny rhythm with his blue-stained fingers.

_ "A twisted, tangled web she weaves to feed on all her prey. Oh, wretched, hungry spider, it doesn't have to be this way." _

Webby's scream burned through Hannah's throat. Above her, Paul still tapped, drawing his palms along the rim of the can. His eyes were shut, his head swaying. He almost seemed to glow in the dark of the evening.

_ "The itsy-bitsy spider climbed up the water spout," _ His fingers crawled along the edge.  _ "Down came the Hive and  _ **_swarmed the spider out."_ **

With a squeak, Hannah winced further in, away from Paul lunging at her. His eyes blinded her, luminescent slime dripping from his manic grin. Hannah trembled, teeth chattering.

_ "Come to free the Omen from her sorry pain, so the itsy-bitsy spider will catch no prey again." _

**LIAR! HE'S A LIAR!**

Hannah stared at him, nose-to-nose, too shaken to speak. She clamped her hands harder over her ears, but it didn't quiet Webby. Not until Paul pulled back, folding his long arms over the edge of the can and looking down at her with a skeptical frown.

"There. Is she frightened enough, Webby?"

The sudden silence was deafening. Hannah slowly pulled her hands down, squinting up at Paul.

"Figured that would shut her up, the brat." Paul smiled, shockingly gently, and reached his hand down into the can. "Hannah, right?" She nodded timidly. "We're Paul."

Hannah lifted her hand cautiously, but hesitated. Paul was scary. Paul was  **bad.** He'd let the Hive change him, and the Hive had taken  _ everything _ from Hannah.  _ He'd _ taken everything from her. But something in her insisted that he  _ wasn't _ all bad. Inclined her to shake his hand. She felt stuck. Paul pulled his hand back.

"That's okay. We can just say hi." He said.

Hannah swallowed the nervous lump in her throat. "H-Hi,"

"Hi."

Hannah was curled tightly into herself. She released a little, sitting up straighter at the bottom of the trash can, but keeping her knees pulled to her chest. She laced her fingers tight together in her lap. The tinny tapping of Paul's fingers remained.

"Sorry for scaring you. Usually we could say we didn't  _ mean _ to, but… yeah. Sorry." He continued. "It's nice to meet you all the same, Hannah." She couldn't help the uncertain little grunt that escaped her. Paul chuckled softly. "Guess our reputation precedes us, huh? Webby probably didn't have many nice things to say." Hannah shook her head. "Figures."

**"What nice things are there to say about a swarm of traitorous** **_pests!"_ **

Hannah clapped her hands over her mouth.

Paul grit his sharp teeth. "Charming."

**It controls him, Hannah, wants to control you. Never satisfied, never whole.**

She clutched her chest. Her heart hadn't stopped pounding since she and Emma had been found on the steps, but for a moment she'd thought it was settling. It wasn't.

**He will** **_end you._ ** **Dancing** **_dead._ **

Hannah hugged her knees.

"Oh. She's already doing it again, isn't she?" Paul asked, leaning forward.

"What?"

"Feeding."

Hannah furrowed her brows, puzzled, only for an angry rumbling to fill her ears, rattling inside her skull. She covered her ears again, the rumble filling her throat and releasing in a yell. The street lamp on the corner exploded in a bright flash and the rumble faded, leaving Hannah gasping for air. Above her, Paul stared at the broken lamp, the glow of his wide eyes the nearest source of light now.

"Yikes." He plucked a shard of glass out of his cheek. "Don't you think you're overindulging a little?"

"W-what are you t- _ talking  _ about?" Hannah stammered.

Paul leaned over the rim of the trash can again, tapping his palm against his forearm. The tune of his hum said  _ I know something you don't know, _ and it was infuriating. Hannah had been denied information too many times lately to just sit and accept it  _ now. _

"Tell me."

He stopped, a little shocked. "You  _ really _ don't know." Hannah scowled. The other lights on the street flickered. "Webby feeds on fear, Hannah. She's feeding on  _ you." _

Something cold rushed through Hannah's body. She shook her head.

"Liar."

"That's an awfully specific thing for us to lie about."

"You're  **lying.** The Hive  **lies."**

Paul grinned. "We never lie when we're telling the truth." 

Hannah scowled. She waited for Webby to speak up again, actually willing to be spoken through this time, but there was nothing. The cold feeling weighed down with dread in her chest.

_ "Something's wrong when you regret things that haven't happened yet," _ Paul sang quietly, swiping his finger through the air like a conductor.  _ "It's a glorious day when morning comes without that feeling of alarm." _

No. Hannah shook her head. He was wrong, he had to be wrong, he was a  **liar.** But the cold feeling only got worse as Webby remained crushingly silent.

"How much has she told you lately?" Paul asked. "Has she left out details? Important things you  _ know _ she knows? Has she left you in silence with no answers?" 

Hannah's chest felt tight. She tried to breathe steadily, but she had nothing to ground her. She tried to reach out, her voice tiny and frail as she felt.

"...Webby?"

Silence, all but for a quiet rumbling. The cold feeling seeped from Hannah's chest, spreading to the tips of her fingers and toes. She stared down at her lap. She felt like something inside her had shattered. Above her, Paul kept talking.

"Yep, that sounds like Webby.  _ Wretched, hungry spider…" _ He trailed off, looking down for a moment and clearing his throat. "It's not much of a fair trade if you ask us. We're hungry, too - even hungrier than her - but  _ we _ compensate. Consider your situation over ours for a second; Vague, unhelpful future tidings, used to scare you to keep her fed, versus a simple sacrifice of the self in exchange for eternal harmony and happiness."

The rumbling grew louder.

Hannah wrapped her arms around herself, shivering. The cold was everywhere, and it made her head throb. She squeezed her eyes shut, hiding her face in her knees, and let out a long, muffled groan. She'd been told a lot of things were  _ bad _ in her life. She'd seen and felt a lot of  _ bad _ things in her life. Something about this made it one of the worst.

**The invasive swarm thinks it is anything beyond an** **_infection._ ** **A** **_disease_ ** **that ravages planets. Pests that need to be** **_exterminated._ **

Bringing her hands up to hold her head, Hannah pressed further into herself. Her nails dug into her scalp. Webby's angry rumble echoed inside her skull. She groaned louder through clenched teeth.

**Do not let him turn you against me, Hannah.**

_ I'm not. _

**You are** **_my_ ** **prophet.**

"I know that!"

"Hannah?" Paul's voice was concerned. "You okay?"

**If you let him trick you, he will** **_kill_ ** **you.**

"I-I'm…"

**DO YOU WANT HIM TO KILL YOU, HANNAH?**

In a panic, Hannah's body jolted backwards, sending the trash can crashing to the ground. No time to be rattled by the impact, her legs picked her up and stumbled her back.

Paul moved to advance but decided against it, his heel tapping rapidly on the concrete. Just the step was still enough for Hannah's legs to carry her into a backwards run.

**Escape.**

"Where can you go?" Paul called. "You can't escape us, Webby!"

Hannah spun around frantically,  _ knowing _ there was nowhere to go, but her legs wouldn't stop. Webby wouldn't stop. It was cold and her head was pounding and every breath  _ hurt _ and her eyes were blurring-

-and she tripped. The knee of her overalls tore on impact, her skin scraping on the sidewalk. She cried out.

"Shit!" Paul rushed to her side and dropped down. "Are you okay? Is it bad? We - uh - we don't remember what's  _ bad _ for humans…"

Hannah pulled herself upright and looked at her raw, red, bleeding knee beneath the torn and frayed denim. She winced. "Ow." 

**Get up. Run.**

Bending her leg made her knee sting. She moved to stand and her leg wobbled under the weight. She sat again and shook her head, tears starting to sting her eyes. She didn't want to run when she was bleeding. 

**Hannah.**

"Okay, okay, hey, we can get that cleaned up. It's okay!" Paul's blue-stained hands hovered over her knee anxiously.

Hannah shook her head again, whimpering wirelessly and pulling herself away from him. He would use this to infect her, she was vulnerable, she'd let herself get  _ hurt… _

"We'll just clean it," Paul said, holding his hands up. "We won't infect you."

Hannah squinted at him. He looked more sincere than she'd expected him to be capable of. He was deep,  _ deep _ in the Hive, this hadn't changed, but part of him was still the plain man in the suit she  _ knew  _ was trustworthy. It was a knowledge beyond what Webby could provide, it was a universal fact. Still she pulled a little into herself, hesitant.

"Promise?"

**_Hannah._ **

"Promise." Paul nodded.

"...Okay."

**HANNAH.**

She clamped her hands over her ears and whimpered. Paul hummed softly, getting back to his feet and holding out his hands. Hannah took them and something like static seemed to linger in her fingertips.

"Okay, up you go," Paul pulled her to her feet and let her steady herself before letting go. She watched him fidget, drawing the pads of his fingers over the edge of each nail. He started walking, glancing back to make sure she followed. "There's a pharmacy nearby, should have bandages. That's what you need, right?"

"Mhm."

He hummed. 

Hannah g rimaced a little, feeling an uncomfortable heat at the core of the cold surrounding her, as Webby's rage tried to boil up trouble in the pit of her stomach. She kept her breathing even, though she noticed the street lights pulsing vaguely like someone was messing with a dimmer switch. She cracked each of her knuckles one by one, limping a little faster to keep up with Paul's long-legged stride. He wasn't  _ quite _ as tall as he'd looked from her position curled up in the garbage, but that wasn't saying much. He still loomed like a lanky blue shadow over her.

Paul was weird.

But she followed him to the pharmacy anyway. He set her up on the counter and headed into the back. After a moment the lights flicked on.

**Hannah. Run now.**

"Not hurting me."

**Putting on a show.**

"You said the Catalyst is good."

**People are weak like the tide. The slightest interference and they change. He is the swarm now, the swarm is bad, and he cannot be saved.**

"But-"

**I thought you knew better than to question me, Hannah.**

"...Me, too."

Hannah saw black.

A shrill ringing pierced through her ears, her head splitting with white-hot pain. The scream that tore from her throat burned, and though she couldn't see, she could hear the lights sizzling. 

It  _ hurt. _

Then she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Hey. Just breathe." Paul's voice was gentle.

Hannah inhaled painfully. Her chest was tight. Her heart was pounding.

"That's it. Breathe out now."

Her exhale was shaky. She felt Paul squeeze her shoulder. Another breath in and out.

"Keep going, you're okay. We're right here." She could hear the hum behind his voice. "Name four things you can see."

"C-can't see," Hannah shook her head.

"Okay, that's okay. How about three things you can hear instead?"

"Um… Lights. H-heart. Catalyst."

"Two things you can feel."

"Counter. Hand."

"One thing you can smell."

Hannah sniffed. "Smells d-dusty. Like medicine."

"You're doing great, Hannah. Keep breathing."

She did as he said, feeling more grounded, and as she focused on breathing in and out the blackness slowly started to dissipate. Her ears still rang, but quieter. Her chest didn't feel as tight. Paul was crouched in front of her, his eyes as blue as ever, but softer. Not as blinding. Hannah helped herself to a few more deep breaths before letting her stiff, tense shoulders relax.

"There you go. All better." Paul smiled.

"Can see… Catalyst. Shelf. Register. And, um," Hannah looked down, "Knee."

Paul glanced down at the scrape. He held up a little box of bandages, a bag of cotton balls, and a bottle of antiseptic. "Let's get that cleaned up."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ending this chapter not on a straight up cliffhanger felt weird hnfjskfjd
> 
> thanks for reading! <3


	13. you'll be alright

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this one took a little longer, I am very distracted by Nightmare Time and also drawing challenges jfnskfjd but! new chapter!

"Ow."

Paul pulled back the sanitized cotton ball he was dabbing on Hannah's scraped knee. "Are we doing it wrong?"

"No." 

"But it's hurting you."

"Just stings. Supposed to."

Paul frowned. That didn't sound right. It shouldn't hurt if it was healing. It shouldn't even  _ need _ all this fuss just to heal, but humans didn't have multipurpose slime to build them back up easily, reshape them stronger. Human bodies didn't take care of them like they should. Just another reason the Hive was  _ clearly  _ so much better. 

The Hive's infectious slime adapted perfectly to every being it assimilated, molding itself to suit the body's needs, reconstructing the insides as required so it could properly care for each and every host, should it find itself injured. Paul thought it was beautiful, to have a naturally-made substance with the explicit function of  _ protection. _ Well, there were many functions -  _ all _ of which were beautiful - but Paul appreciated that one in particular. The Hive protected its collective. The Hive  _ loved _ and  _ cared for _ its collective, no matter how big it got.

Paul heard a quiet whimper from Hannah and caught her hands shifting, like she wanted to cover her ears but decided against it. He realized he was singing. Just a simple, bouncy little tune that also hummed pleasantly in the back of his head. He liked it, but Hannah seemed uncomfortable, so he closed his mouth and stifled the tune to a quiet hum instead. Hannah didn't completely unclench, but she looked a little less frightened. That was good.

The first cotton ball was soaked in red blood. Paul set it aside on the counter to be disposed of later and plucked another from the bag, dousing it in antiseptic. The wound was cleaner, but it was a large scrape, covering most of Hannah's knee, and blood still welled up when he applied pressure. From the advice he was sifting through in his head, once it stopped bleeding he would be good to bandage it.

He glanced up and Hannah was staring at him.

"Everything okay?" He asked.

"You're weird."

Paul laughed. "Thanks."

"Webby doesn't trust you."

"We don't trust her much either."

Paul couldn't say for sure if he'd met Webby himself at this point. He didn't  _ think _ so, but he knew too much about her to feel confident. He had the same memories the Hive had of her, though they were hazy. He held the same contempt for her as the Hive. He knew everything they did. And he  _ was  _ them, so of course he had met her. That made sense. 

"You're nice to me, though," Hannah continued. "Not what Webby said you'd be. I'm confused."

"Webby does everything she can to frighten you, Hannah,  _ that's  _ her priority." Paul said. "If she can get away without telling the whole story, or with…  _ embellishing  _ certain things, she will. It's how she gets what she wants, she's been doing it for eons."

Hannah looked down. Her hands fidgeted against the surface of the counter she sat on, anxious and upset. 

"Whole story…"

_ Oh. _

Now  _ that's _ a dirty trick.

Paul looked up at Hannah, consciously dimming the glow of his eyes. He spoke softly. "She never told you what happened to your sister, did she?"

Hannah's fists clenched. The lights flashed, strobing wildly, like they had when she'd had her panic attack. Paul paused the human healing ritual and reached up to squeeze her arm gently. 

"Breathe," he reminded, and she did.

The lights settled. She scrubbed at her teary eyes with her fists and shook her head. "No."

Paul grit his teeth. "That little bitch."

"You know?" He nodded. "Tell me."

"She's one of us now." 

Though Paul did his best to keep his tone gentle, it didn't help much. Heavy tears welled up in Hannah's eyes as her breathing grew shallow and frantic. Black swallowed the whites of her eyes once again, brown irises draining into white, and Paul nearly went to duck and cover for fear the flashing lights might explode again. Instead he grabbed her by the shoulders and looked her in the eyes.

"Hannah,  _ stop _ following the spider's influence so blindly and think for a second." He spoke slowly. "Wouldn't you  _ rather _ her be with us? What's the other option; a starved, dehydrated human corpse too far gone for even us to save?"

Hannah shrieked and the entire pharmacy went white, just for a moment. The pulse was consistent as she sniffled and whimpered.

"She c-could've come b-back,"

"No, Hannah. We were her only option. She's safe with us. She's  _ okay." _

Hannah hid her face in both hands and cried. Paul kept his hand on her arm and hummed for her, but it still didn't help. Humans were confusing. 

"Webby really didn't tell you," he muttered.

"Thought she h-had a reason," Hannah whimpered through harsh hiccups.

"Have you ever doubted her?" Paul asked. Hannah blinked, hiccuping again, and looked at him like the thought had never even occurred to her. She shook her head. "How long has she been with you?"

"I-I was little,"

"How little?"

Hannah looked down. Thinking. "...Really little."

Paul's lips curled back into a sharp grimace. The pleasant humming in his head had darkened already, and now his own tone lowered to match. "Well, that would be why, then." He glanced down at the wound, cleaned now, and ripped open the box of bandages, digging for a big enough one. "You've been trapped in her web too long to know any better. It's clever of her, really, you didn't even realize."

"Not trapped," Hannah protested, wiping her eyes. "I'm a prophet."

"You are. You're also a child being used. She's convinced you that you need her so she has an excuse to feed constantly. You're nothing but a buffet to her, Hannah, she doesn't actually  _ care _ about your safety, or anyone you love, for that matter. You should have proof enough of that by now. She'd have broken you before you reached 20."

Hannah sniffled, her breath stuttering, and blinked back more tears from forming in her eyes. The lights buzzed. "Hive's not better. Using you, too."

"This isn't using, it's unity. We're getting exactly what we were promised."

"Hurt you."

Paul sighed. Honestly, this was getting exhausting. And that was saying something, when Paul hadn't slept in well over three weeks. His hum was a little tense.

"The Hive  _ saved _ us. Just like we saved Lex." He peeled the backing strips off a large bandage and stuck it carefully over Hannah's scrape. "There. All set."

_ "Hurt _ you," Hannah repeated, staring at him intently.

Paul hadn't realized until now that her eyes had shifted from the black-and-white back to a regular, human brown. He folded his arms on the counter and stared right back at her.

"Have you ever seen someone who exploded, Hannah?" She shook her head. "It's not pretty. Limbs blown off, bloody burns, smoke in your lungs. It can be easy to die from that, and it's definitely not something a human would heal quickly from, let alone come out unscathed. But hey, here we are, all in one piece again." He gestured to himself. "The Hive saved us."

Hannah frowned a little deeper. "Tried to stop it. Grenades."

"A misguided try at heroism from a past life." Paul waved his hand dismissively. "We thought we could save the planet singlehandedly, and it  _ literally  _ blew up in our face. By all accounts that should've been the end of it for us, but the Hive is merciful. We knew we were just misled, and now we get to understand. Now we  _ can _ save the planet."

A pleasant drawl of orchestral sound filled Paul's head. It sounded so nice he had to snap his eyes back open to keep from losing himself in it. 

He cleared his throat and stood up, holding his hand out to help Hannah off the counter. She wrapped her arms around herself and stared at the floor. Paul frowned.

"Honestly, Hannah, where can you go if you don't come with us? Are you gonna hide in the trash until you freeze or starve to death, begging the spider to tell you what's coming? She doesn't know, she's lying to you.  _ We _ can take care of you."

"Y-you want to k- _ kill  _ me!" Hannah yelled.

"No we  _ DON'T!" _ Paul yelled louder and the building seemed to jolt. It settled, and the brief ringing in Hannah's ears subsided as Paul took a breath and calmed himself.  _ "She _ would do it first if we tried it our way."

Paul was getting all too used to Hannah looking at him like she had no idea what he was talking about. He groaned, hearing the low, drawled tuba sound of the Hive groan with him.

"There are  _ rules. _ Prophets belong to their patrons, no one else. Subject to change sometimes, but Webby goes out of her way to make sure that one can't be broken. So they tell us."

Paul shuddered as the Hive forced images into his mind. Memories that weren't his, not before, but being with the Hive made them his. They felt like his. Grisly images of the spider's past prophets, faces frozen in fearful agony, twitching and leaking blue slime their bodies were forced to reject. Hearts strangled to a halt by their patron before the infection could do its job, their fear of death fed on until the last possible second. There weren't many - the Hive learned its lesson quickly - but the select few were enough to make Paul feel sick. Laying at his feet like broken toys, discarded after a spoiled goddess' tantrum because she knew she always had more. She didn't care for them like the Hive could have. All of them would have been better off with the Hive. Webby had robbed them of the choice they'd made. Their chance at happiness. 

He wouldn't let that happen to Hannah, he knew how to tread. But he could still protect her.

"We look after our own, Hannah." He continued. "You can't be one of us the traditional way, but we can teach you the songs! We'll take care of you, just like any of our hive."

Hannah stared at him, silent, her gaze intense but unreadable. That was such an odd experience now, not having any idea what the other person was thinking or feeling. Facial cues had never helped him much, but especially not when Paul had gotten so accustomed to  _ feeling  _ what everyone felt. Either way Hannah's brow twitched and Paul  _ hoped _ she was considering his perspective. Then again, he couldn't know what Webby was saying to her.

_ Lies. _

Well, that was a given.

Hannah flinched, covering her ears. The lights flickered and she whimpered, and she looked so small it was painful. 

"Too loud,"

Paul grimaced. How were they supposed to reach any kind of understanding when the spider wouldn't stop  _ screaming  _ at her?

He shut his eyes and reached out to Lex within the Hive. No matter his efforts he knew no one could calm Hannah like her sister, even if they weren't quite the same anymore. Lex had so many strong feelings that were almost overpowering, but strongest of all was her love for Hannah. It was a force near unmatched by anything the Hive had ever experienced. It was powerful. She was a good sister. Paul invited her to speak through him, to see through his eyes, just for a minute, and she jumped at the chance.

"Hey Banana," Lex's voice came through Paul's mouth.

Hannah jolted back with a gasp. "Lexi?!"

"Yeah, it's me, you're okay." 

Lex reached out and tucked a lock of hair behind Hannah's ear, and even though it was Paul's hand, it was definitely Lex's gesture. Hannah still flinched, shutting her eyes tight.

"Weird," she shuddered.

"I know. I'll come get you soon, though, alright? I can see where you are, this'll be the last time I ever let you out of my sight. We've got our escape, Han, you'll never have to be scared again.  _ We're free, to do what we want, any old time." _

"L-Lexi,"

Lex went to hug her sister, but Hannah pushed her away at arm's length. Paul's shirt was a bad fabric, it was ripped and covered in blood and slime, and he  _ wasn't  _ Lex. Hannah didn't want to hug Paul, even if it was just his body. Lex got the message and stopped. She'd prefer to hug Hannah when they were really together again, anyway.

"I'll come get you," she promised. "This shitshow's almost over."

"But you're-"

"Everything's fine, Hannah. I'm right here, and I'm not going anywh-"

Lex went silent, Paul's jaw hanging slack, his eyes glowing bright. Paul shot back into control again, processing the information he'd just received. Everything else was mute in comparison to this. 

"Emma," he spoke with his own voice.

She was awake. He could see her, rubbing her eyes, her surprise to be waking up in an unfamiliar bed. His blue heart fluttered, a rhythm rapidly building as he bounced on the balls of his feet. Everything else fell away and the Hive knew it would be useless to try and get his attention now. Or maybe they wanted to go to her as much as he did. He turned on his heels and sprinted out the pharmacy door, leaving Hannah on the counter.

"Paul?!" She yelled after him, confused.

He kept on his way. A moment later, he heard the bell of the pharmacy's door jingle again. Knowing she had nowhere else to go, Hannah followed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! <3


	14. safe and sound(?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went and made a couple small tweaks to chapters 2, 12, and 13, nothing huge just little things, because Nightmare Time gave us some good lore that I want to try and incorporate. No spoilers yet, just little hints, but I figured I'd let y'all know! I might edit a little more when I can focus enough, I'll keep ya posted
> 
> song lyrics from Absolutely (Story of a Girl) by Nine Days

To say that Emma was surprised to wake up uninfected would be a massive understatement. The last thing she knew she'd been suffocating in Paul's arms,  _ surely _ he'd have taken that opportunity to bring her to his side. But Emma felt just as sore and tired and shitty and human as ever, so evidently he hadn't. On some level, he  _ was _ still fighting them. He  _ was  _ stronger than them.

Or maybe Emma was just searching blindly for hope that wasn't there.

Shifting between the soft, clean sheets of whoever's bed she was in, she winced at the pulse of pain that shot through her ribs. She was propped upright, a bag of frozen peas resting below her breast. She squinted, grunting at another pulse of pain when she inhaled.

"Be careful, Emma, your ribs are bruised."

She looked up. "Becky Barnes?"

Becky stood in the doorway, eyes bright and blue. She was holding a plate of toast, eggs, and bacon. She smiled. "That's me!"

Emma's eyes narrowed. "You're infected."

"Mhm. Here, I know you still eat for now, we thought making you breakfast would be a good idea."

Becky offered the plate to Emma, who took it, bewildered. She studied the food, searching for hidden blue shit, turning the eggs over.

"I should have waited to ask if you had dietary restrictions, Tom said he didn't think you were vegan, but I wasn't sure-"

"I'm not vegan," Emma said.

"Oh! Then is there something wrong with it, or…?"

"That's what I'm checking for."

Becky was silent for a moment before she caught up. Then she laughed. "Emma, you don't need to worry about that! We wouldn't do something like that when Paul's gone through so much trouble for you, oh, he would be  _ furious!" _ Her laugh quieted to a giggle, the sound like a pretty flute. "It's just breakfast, I promise. Though the eggs might be a little runny, I was never very good at eggs."

Emma frowned, still skeptical, but scooped a forkful of eggs into her mouth anyway. And then another. And another, and another, because Jesus  _ Christ,  _ she was hungry, and stale, frozen staff lounge sandwiches had  _ not  _ been cutting it. The toast was golden and the bacon was crisp and the eggs, sure, were a little bit runny, but Emma wasn't complaining, ravenously clearing the plate of half its contents before slowing down.

"Do you want some water, or-?" Becky began, smiling blankly.

"Yes." 

Becky nodded, but instead of leaving the room just stood there, staring with those empty, happy blue eyes. Humming a little tune. Emma stared right back, squinting suspiciously, and right when she was about to speak up again, Tim bounded through the door carrying a glass of water.

_ "Hi, Aunt Emma!" _ He beamed brightly, and Emma winced at the blue stains on his teeth.

"Tim…"

"D'you feel better? Miss Becky said you weren't feeling well, that's why you're not one of us yet."

"Uh-"

"Dad said you're just being difficult."

"Rude,"

"Don't tell your aunt what's in my head, Tim." Tom called, coming through the door, too. 

And this might have been one of the strangest moments of Emma's life. She was in a bed that wasn't hers, a bag of peas lying on her abdomen, eating breakfast with her brainwashed alien brother-in-law, nephew, and Becky Barnes. On top of that she didn't even know whose house this was - it couldn't be Becky's or Tom's, because she knew what Tom's guest room looked like, and they were definitely still in Clivesdale anyway. They couldn't have taken her all the way back to Hatchetfield without her waking up first.

"Whose house is this?" She voiced the question.

"Grace's grandmother," Tom said. "She's been looking after Tim while I'm busy since we've been in town."

_ Busy. _ Emma remembered Lex recounting her brush with Tom when they were still invisible to the Hive. She shuddered.

"Every home is communal now, really, it's much easier to live as a unit that way." Becky expanded with a smile.

"That sounds annoying. No privacy, everyone taking your sh-" she glanced at Tim, "-uhh, stuff all the time? Who wants that?"

Becky looked confused. "Who doesn't?"

Emma grimaced. They were all looking at her with the same blank, expectant expression. They were all just as impossible as Paul. Emma looked down and kept eating. She probably shouldn't have - accepting their hospitality was one step closer to accepting  _ them _ \- but she was really hungry. The room was quiet for a moment before Becky chimed cheerfully;

"Well, boys, let's let Emma get some rest, huh?"

Tim frowned. "She already was resting."

"Well she's still human, bud, she needs extra." Tom said. He glanced at Emma, uncomfortably pointed. "Soon as she figures out what's important to her, we can all be a real family again."

Something cold wrapped around Emma's heart and squeezed tight, just for a moment before releasing.

That was a new tactic.

The bedroom door didn't shut but when Emma looked back up, she was alone in a house of ghosts. She set her plate aside. Her whole body was sore. Every inhale was painful. And she was glad. Sure, it sucked, but it served as a reminder that she was  _ alive. _ It was like scrapes and bruises from biking, cuts and callouses from rock climbing, sprained joints and broken bones and getting sick, just the apocalypse edition. She struggled and felt pain because she was alive. She felt every ache and scar of her mere brushes with death because of the breath in her lungs and the steady, biological  _ non-musical _ beat of her heart.

She'd stabbed Paul four times and he hadn't even felt it. Paul was dead.

It hurt to admit that. It hurt to snap back to her weeks in that shitty hospital, having  _ seen _ the blue light of the explosion, being told countless times that there had been no survivors, but clinging to him anyway. Emma wanted to laugh at herself. She'd spent the weeks she could have been coming to terms with losing something that never was, utterly convinced he'd made it somehow. That she would see him again. What a dreadful valley to end up caught in, a purgatory between right and wrong, only to refuse to find her way out. She would now, though, now that it was really only a matter of time before hers ran out, too. Paul was dead, no matter what remained of him. Everyone in this house but her was dead. Lex was, too, and probably Hannah by now. 

A heavy lump formed in Emma's throat, tears stinging her eyes. Hannah. She deserved so much better. She deserved a better world, a better timeline to live in. A better friend. A better guardian. Emma wished she could apologize to her. To Lex for failing to protect her sister, to protect both of them. To Tom and Tim, for being a lousy relative, for not visiting more in the year she'd been back before this. To Jane for never catching the next one, because maybe if she had things would have been different. 

To Paul. For not having enough time.

Tears dripped onto the backs of Emma's hands resting in her lap. They clenched into loose fists, fingers shaking as her breath quivered. Despite the pulsing ache in her chest, Emma pulled her knees up, curled in on herself, and allowed herself the first good, hard cry she'd had in almost a year.

\--

_ "This is the story of a girl…" _

His voice was gentle. Tender and kind. It made Emma cry harder.

_ "...who cried a river and drowned the whole world…" _

She hated how nice he sounded. The promise of warmth and comfort that radiated from that stupid silky-soft voice, how in her emotional weakness part of her desperately wanted to wrap herself up in that comfort, snug and safe, and stay there forever. She hated that though she couldn't see him, the sudden touch of his hand on her back didn't startle her, it made her want to throw herself into his arms because even if he suffocated her, she knew he would hold her.

_ "...And while she looks so sad in photographs, I absolutely love her…" _

His stupid cold hand brushed her dumb, dirty hair back, turning her face up slowly, and she could have pulled away, but she didn't. She could have kept her eyes shut, but she didn't. She looked right at him and he glowed so brightly it was painful, his crooked, sharp-toothed smile so drenched in adoration Emma could have puked. She just sniffled, though, a pathetic little hiccup of the last of her tears. He drew his thumb over her cheek and she couldn't help the weak, tired smile that tugged on her lips at his softness. He hummed.

_ "...when she smiles." _

"Hi, Paul."

"Hi, Em- _ maaa." _

He held her face so cautiously, like she was something precious. Studying her features with care, wiping her eyes for her with every tear she felt well up. She caught him steal a contemplative glance at her forehead like he wanted to kiss it. He settled for just holding her.

"You still look sad." He said.

"My chest hurts. You suffocated me."

His eyes widened briefly, the glow seeming to dim. He looked down, releasing her from his hands. "Didn't mean to. Sorry."

"You didn't  _ mean _ to squeeze me until I passed out?" She raised a brow.

"We- uh…" Emma couldn't help snickering a little through her nose as he floundered. "Didn't mean to hurt you. You needed sleep, they said so."

"Oh, of course," Emma rolled her eyes.

Paul stared down at where his hands rested on the edge of the bed. He was knelt beside her, and she could hear him, just barely, humming to himself. Emma just watched him, glancing at his chest, the torn slits in his shirt where she'd pierced with the knife. The shirt was ruined for sure, torn and stained in his blood. The skin beneath had sealed perfectly, without a trace of injury. She wondered if he even remembered it happening.

The humming stopped and Paul looked at her again.

"How did you sleep?" He asked. "Did you have good dreams?"

"I don't have dreams," Emma said.

"Of course you do. You want to start a pot farm."

Emma couldn't help wondering if he was that dumb naturally or if the infection made him like that. She scoffed. "Not like that matters now. What good are recreational substances when-" she sparkled her fingers in mocking jazz hands, "-everyone's happy all the time!"

"Well who knows? We've never tried it."

Emma snorted. "Oh yeah, smoke up with the alien hivemind, huh? That sounds like one hell of an after party. You think only one of you has to take a hit for everyone to feel it?"

Paul laughed. "Good question."

"Ah, unfortunately, my whole stash is back in Hatchetfield. Couldn't test that theory if we wanted to."

_ "Do _ you want to?" Emma looked at him blankly. "We could go get some if you do-"

"Paul, no, oh my god," Emma laughed tiredly, dragging her hand down her face. "You're an idiot, no."

"Okay."

He went quiet for a moment, a barely audible hum buzzing from his throat. His hands folded together on the bed beside her. His thumbs twitched. Unfolded. Refolded, fingers laced together this time. Pulled apart again. Laid flat on the mattress. Fingers twitching. Tapping anxiously. All inside a consistent rhythm.

"If there  _ is _ anything you want," he looked up at her through his lashes, "We'll do it for you. Anything at all, it's yours."

Emma blinked, trying to study him. She didn't get him.

"Why, though? Why even bother?"

Paul looked puzzled. "We want you to be happy."

"I mean, can't you just  _ make  _ me happy by puking in my mouth? Wouldn't that be the easier route?"

He perked up. "Do you want us to?"

_ "No, _ Paul, that's not what-" Emma groaned. "You want me infected so bad, you  _ know _ you could just do it. It's not something you need my fucking permission for.  _ I _ know part of you wants to get it over with, and whatever's in your head wants you to, so I don't get…  _ why _ do you keep  _ asking?" _

Paul stared at her. She watched his bright eyes dim, then flick down, trained on his hands as they tapped. Blue dripped from his nose. She almost wished she could know what was going on in his head, but she really shouldn't even entertain that idea. His tapping shifted, tempo consistent, just a new rhythm.

"It wouldn't be fair to you," he said quietly, "if we didn't give you a choice."

Emma sighed. "Not much of a choice when the world's ending."

The next thing he said was such a whisper Emma barely caught it;

"We don't want it to hurt you,"

"What?"

Paul's head snapped back up to face her and his eyes were bright again. "What?"

"What did you say?"

"When?"

"Just now."

"We said 'what.'" 

_ "Paul…" _ Emma dropped her head in her hands with a groan.

Paul reached to hold her wrist, but before he could say anything they both heard footsteps rushing closer, eyes snapping to the door as Hannah stumbled into the room, out of breath.

"You run too fast!" She huffed.

Emma's breath caught, a tear slipping down her cheek. "Hannah?"

"Emma!"

Hannah rushed to climb up on the bed, throwing her arms around Emma. Startled, and in a little pain, Emma was hesitant to return the embrace until Hannah looked at her. Brown eyes. Emma hugged her as tight as she could.

"You're okay! Where did you go? What the hell happened?"

"Hid in the trash, I wasn't supposed to be seen." Hannah glanced at Paul. "Didn't work."

"How are you not infected?"

"Paul says there's rules."

Emma glanced at him and he shrugged. "She throws a fit when the rest of us take her things, so they made rules. Now it's fair for all of us." His voice lowered to a mutter; "But it's not  _ our _ fault she breaks everything…"

**"Fair?!"** Hannah quickly clapped her hands over her mouth, blinking away the black starting to swallow her eyes. She shook her head. "Webby's mad,"

"Webby's a  _ brat." _

Emma's gaze darted between the two of them. The cerulean of Paul's eyes shined, blinding, making the sunken shadows of his eyes look darker. Slime oozed between his pointy teeth. Hannah clutched at her own hair, blinking rapidly, but the blackness didn't slow in its journey to coat her eyes. She shook her head frantically before suddenly releasing, slamming her fists down and rocking the bed frame.

**"All you do is take! Infectious, invasive pests!"** She yelled.

"Maybe if you would stop trying to change our stories-!" Paul shot back.

**"They are bad stories! You are** **_bad!"_ **

"Fuck do  _ you _ know about good storytelling?"

"What the  _ hell  _ are you two talking about?!" Emma cried.

**"I know plenty more than you."** Hannah grit her teeth, ignoring her.

Paul's expression twisted into a grin, sharp and smug and unhinged and  _ empty, _ and a chill shot up Emma's spine. He loomed towards Hannah and Emma pulled her closer.

_ "Really. _ Then how is it that we keep on  _ winning?" _ He questioned.

Hannah scowled, pulling out of Emma's grip so she and Paul were face-to-face in a staredown. Black-and-white eyes glaring into glowing, mixed blue. Emma could barely hear the low hum like a growl rumbling from Paul's throat. She had no fucking clue what was happening.

**"You do not always win."** Hannah spoke slow and clear despite the tiny crack in her voice.  **"A swarm of pests can still be exterminated."**

Paul's hum sharpened into a chuckle. "Probability favors us enough to frighten you," he poked Hannah's forehead with a sharp finger, "And a spider can be squashed much easier."

Hannah's glare darkened, her jaw setting, her shoulders lifting to her ears. Emma saw Paul roll his eyes a second before the shriek filled the room. Emma felt herself slammed back against the headboard by  _ something, _ something that Paul gripped the bedpost against and only his cape blew back. Emma covered her ears at the high-pitched shock of sound that was making the lights flash and sizzle. Paul scoffed.

"Little brat!"

_ "HEY!" _ Emma yelled, cutting through the shriek, and they both shut up.

Clearly that wasn't Paul and Hannah arguing. Emma huffed an exasperated sigh, pulling her hands from her ears and rubbing her eyes. What a way to be spending the apocalypse: moderator between two all-powerful  _ space toddlers _ fighting through a grown man and an eighth grader.

"Both of you are gonna sit down and shut up, or so help me-!" Emma sighed, jamming her knuckle into the corner of her eye. She didn't have a fucking ultimatum to set. "Just knock it off!"

Hannah curled in on herself, pressing her fingertips into her head and murmured, "Stop doing that." Her eyes had faded back to brown.

Paul looked down. "Sorry, Em- _ maaa." _

"Great. Now I don't give a shit about whatever beef you've got going on, okay? I'm not fucking part of that and I don't wanna be, so keep me out of it."

"Okay." Paul nodded.

"You're putting me in a real shitty position here, you know that?" Emma was angry and on a roll. "I didn't sign up for an apocalypse, but I could get used to that. What I sure as  _ shit _ didn't sign up for is the number one doombringer being the fucking black coffee guy I'd been trying to hit on,  _ or _ the kid I ended up looking after having some divine connection that can barely even  _ help  _ us. Honestly at this point I might've  _ preferred _ dying in Hatchetfield!"

She huffed, slumping back in bed. Beside her Hannah was playing with her braids uneasily. Emma set her hand gently on the girl's knee and squeezed, trying to communicate she wasn't upset with  _ her.  _ On the other side, Paul was still on his knees at her bedside, lanky frame awkwardly hunched so his chin rested on his knuckles. He looked at her with wide eyes, like a surprised little kitten.

"...You tried to hit on us?"

"Paul, do you  _ want _ me to stab you again? It's really seeming like it."

Paul covered his mouth, but Emma could still see the blue blush covering his nose. He studied her, quietly humming that song from the hospital again.  _ So happy together... _ She shouldn't have said anything. 

"Stabbing never works," Hannah said in a little mouse voice, still curling one of her braids around her hand. "Don't have Ethan's knife anymore anyway."

Emma sighed and pushed her hair back, out of her face. God, it felt gross. She wiped her palm on the mattress to combat the nasty texture. She could go without showers when she needed to, she usually wouldn't even notice it as long as she kept moving. Who knew why she noticed now. Maybe because she'd woken in a warm bed instead of a staff lounge sofa, or a musty, mothball-ridden motel room. Maybe because they'd made her breakfast. Maybe because she was finding it hard to picture herself keeping moving from here. She glanced out the open door into what she could see of the hallway. She brought her hair around to drape over her shoulder, fidgeting with the ends. Gross.

"I want to use the shower here," she said. "That's what I want."

"Second door on the left," Paul answered immediately. "The knobs are mislabeled,  _ H _ is cold water and  _ C _ is hot."

God it was weird that he knew that. Emma pushed the sheets back and kicked at the air, gesturing for Paul to move. He obeyed, moving up against the wall, and she limped over the floor.

Given no response to her statement, Hannah seemed to pull further into herself. Emma watched Paul move to sit on the edge of the bed, giving the kid her space. Hannah stared at him. Emma got the feeling they'd be fine for fifteen minutes. As she headed down the hall she heard Paul ask;

"So, do you like card games?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bit of a slower one this time I know, but don't worry things'll be picking up again!
> 
> thanks for reading! <3


	15. want

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! Been having a Time with this chapter haha
> 
> We're officially getting into some light lore spoilers from Nightmare Time in this chapter, in case anyone hasn't seen it and wants no info, feel free to wait on this for a bit! I won't mind <3
> 
> Song lyrics from Technicolour Beat by Oh Wonder

When Emma came out of the shower wrapped in a towel, a fresh set of clothes had been left folded outside the bathroom door. She looked up in time to spot Becky grinning at her before disappearing down the hall. A little unsettled, Emma picked up the clothes and stepped back into the bathroom, shutting the door. She grabbed another towel to more actively dry and comb her hair, watching her reflection in the mirror. The grime from the last week or so was gone. The heat had loosened her stiff, tired joints. She felt a little better. More relaxed.

She frowned at herself. She didn't appreciate the circumstances or any of the stupid blue puppets inhabiting this place. Just the access to a shower. She would've just taken it anyway, she didn't need to ask. They hadn't  _ given _ her anything. She set down the comb and grabbed a hair tie from the basket by the sink, pulling her hair into a loose ponytail and letting it sit over her shoulder. After pilfering the medicine cabinet for a few essentials to stash - she'd noticed a blood stain in her underwear - she pulled on the black t-shirt from the clean clothes, but kept her jeans. She stretched out her back.

In the bedroom, Paul and Hannah were sat across from each other on the bed, a deck of cards between them. Hannah had a bag of chips open beside her.

"Any sixes?" Paul asked.

"Go fish."

"Aw,"

Paul plucked a card from the deck and stuck it in his hand. His cards were as messy as him, dripping blue. Hannah giggled and he squinted at her skeptically.

"You know what we got, don't you?" He accused, and Hannah just shrugged innocently. "Hey,  _ you _ said no one else could play because hiveminds are cheating. No future mind powers."

"Can't help it, the deck is how it is. One path." Hannah grinned. "Twos?"

With a glance at his hand and a huff, Paul reluctantly handed over his two cards, all four of them. Emma laughed and his head snapped to her, expression brightening. He scooted to give her room as she climbed clumsily onto the bed, reinforcing how unnaturally fucking  _ tall _ he was. His knee stuck out halfway off the edge of the bed though he sat closer to the center. His spindly-ass stilt legs took up half the space, even folded. Christ.

"Deal me in," Emma held out her hands.

"Okay, but Hannah cheats." Paul said, dealing her a hand from the deck.

"You gonna help me beat him, kiddo?" Emma asked, leaning towards Hannah, who nodded with a grin. "Then I'm fine with it."

"Hey, that's not fair!" Paul protested. "You can't gang up on us like that,  _ we're _ playing by the set rules!"

"You sing-song shits have outnumbered us for months, dude, you can let the humans have the fucking card game."

Paul opened his mouth to complain again, but thought better and shut it, sulking. He dropped it. "Fives?"

Emma plucked a five from her hand and forked it over. "You get one," she said, "and then I wipe the floor with you."

\--

The sun rose, washing warm, golden-pink light through the window, and Hannah hadn't slept. She was swaying a little, hazy-eyed where she sat on the bed. Emma and Paul glanced at each other. Paul got up.

"C'mon, there's another bedroom down the hall."

Hannah shook her head and pushed away his offered hand. "Staying here." She scooted back, up at the head of the bed next to Emma, and laid down on her back, folding her hands over her stomach.

Paul glanced at Emma again, who shrugged. "Sure. We'll be quiet, you get some rest."

"You stay awake," Hannah warned, winking an eye open.

"Will do."

Hannah smiled at Emma, before shutting her eye again and rolling over onto her side, pulling her knees up to her chin. Emma smiled too, giving her a little pat on the arm. 

Paul sat down at the foot of the bed again. They quietly compared hands from the unfinished last round of their game. It didn't take long for Hannah to fall asleep, her breathing slower, deeper. Emma looked down at her, carefully brushing a lock of hair out of her face.

"She's a good kid," she said, and Paul hummed in agreement. She looked at him pointedly. "She deserves better than this."

Paul furrowed his brows quizzically. "We know that. We're trying to give her the best option she has."

"Yeah, that's the kind of shit you keep saying."

"We're not trying to infect her, Em- _ maaa. _ There's rules, like she said. And Webby'd kill her if we even tried." Emma blinked in disbelief and Paul nodded. "Yeah,  _ her,  _ not us. She's done it before. She shows up wherever we go and tries to turn our musicals into a game she can win," He started counting on his fingers, like it was a step-by-step list. "She finds prophets with the most of the Gift and uses their powers to give herself a leg up and guess what we'll do. Keeps her fed, too, they tend to be pretty frightened."

"The Gift?" Emma interrupted.

"Psychics."

"I thought the clairvoyance was Webby's power. Hannah said she gives warnings."

"Her web's as vast as the universe. She reads every timeline through it, when she has access to the right energy she can figure out which line is being walked, and which probabilities are most likely."

"...Okay."

"It's a clever trick. We'd do the same if we could get to it first, but she always beats us and hoards all the psychic energy for herself. It only even helps her  _ some _ of the time." Paul stuck up another finger and continued tracking steps. "Then when she loses she throws a fucking tantrum when her prophets choose the winning side. And  _ maybe _ it wasn't fair of us to try and take them to begin with, but  _ she's _ the one who breaks them when they won't do what she wants. At least  _ we _ can fix what we break." He huffed. "She's a wretched, greedy little brat."

"You make it sound like she's your kid sister or something," Emma said, trying to process.

"She is."

"Wait really?"

"Well, not  _ ours, _ but…" Paul stammered a little, searching for the line that divided the Hive from him, but it was so faded. She was only his sister by proxy, but he felt like he knew her. "Ours. You- uh, you know what we mean."

"Yeah, I got it." 

Emma rubbed her temples, covering her face with her hands. Paul frowned. She'd slept, she was clean, but she still looked so  _ tired. _ She looked like she was hurting. Everyone around him was  _ hurting  _ and there was nothing about it he understood anymore. 

"Are you okay?" He asked awkwardly.

"Not any worse than usual," Emma laughed bitterly. 

Paul's hum was strained and upset. If she didn't  _ like _ hurting, which she really didn't seem to, why wouldn't she let go of it? Why wouldn't she let him get rid of it for her? It didn't make any sense. He watched her rub her forehead, thinking to himself… she'd been letting him talk this whole time. She'd actually been  _ listening _ to him,  _ and _ to the Hive, without denying or interrupting. Maybe she'd let him help now. Maybe she would finally stay in his arms this time, no knocking out required.

"Can we try something?" He asked, reaching for Emma and framing his hands on either side of her head. She scowled at him suspiciously. "Relax, it's nothing. We dated a guy in college who used to do this for us, it helps."

He carefully pressed the pads of his middle fingers to the sides of Emma's head. She squeezed her eyes shut against the cold of his skin, but as he began to slowly and lightly knead small circles into her temples, he felt her relax. Lean into his hands. Trust him. He could practically feel the way her head buzzed under the pressure himself. The memory of being on the receiving end of these massages was the closest thing he'd ever felt to being infected before the Hive. If he did this right, he could ease her into it. He hummed for her, softly, slowly concentrating all the utterly human stress in her head into one spot and gently working it all out for her.

"Helping?" He asked.

"I guess," Emma said, her voice dragging on the floor.

"It's probably not as nice as when he did it, he was really into yoga and meditation, had these soothing rose oils he'd use, it was a whole thing."

"Fuckin' hate oils. Make my head feel cold."

Paul laughed quietly. Emma was closer to him now, her spine seemed slack and she kept leaning into his hands, letting him hold her head up. Her eyes slit open to see him smiling sweetly at her. She sniffed, like she was about to cry. No, no, that would be wrong. She looked down and Paul's hum squeaked higher, like a whine. He pouted, leaning closer. He wanted her to  _ not _ cry, and he wanted to be able to look at her. He wanted her to look at him.

_ "Emmaaa," _

He sang softly and she looked up. He smiled again. He could admire her forever if she'd let him. Lord knew he wanted to. She was everything. She should let herself  _ be _ everything. 

Paul stopped for a moment, just holding her, looking at her. "You have such pretty eyes." 

Emma closed them. Disappointing, but she didn't pull away, so Paul wouldn't complain. He kept on humming, pressing a tentative kiss to her forehead. She pushed up against him, into the contact, and he smiled. A quiet, contented sound escaped from the back of her throat as he kept working on her temples. It filled Paul with warmth. He'd never seen her so calm. Honestly, from the way she was about to collapse in his lap, she'd probably never  _ felt _ so calm.

"That feel better?" 

Emma gave a little  _ mhm. _

Paul's own head was buzzing nicely. Emma was edging on entranced - he hadn't exactly  _ meant _ to do that, but now she was relaxed, she was  _ trusting _ him again. She wasn't afraid.  _ This _ was how he should have done it. As long as she stayed in this state she wouldn't run, he could convince her to stay. Paul pitched his hum lower, slower. Emma would feel safe. Emma would feel loved and cared for, and then she would feel it forever. 

"Here, turn around," he spoke with a lower, quieter tone, carrying a subtle melody.

Emma squinted at him. Her eyes looked heavy and sleepy. Paul rubbed his neck pointedly to get across what he meant. Emma seemed to consider for a moment before turning around, and Paul swelled with joy.  _ She trusted him. _ He scooted up closer to her on the bed, drawing light pressure over her mid-back and shoulders, feeling her tension. She bristled against his cool touch, goosebumps forming on her warm, tan skin. Paul pressed his thumb into the knot at the curve of the back of her shoulder and she groaned through clenched teeth. That was the right spot, apparently. He built up a slow rhythm, feeling her body sway stiffly with his movements. 

He leaned closer, humming into her ear, and the stiffness in Emma's neck slowly released, hanging down, rocking loose with his rhythm. Paul's hands travelled, carefully seeking tension and attending to it, avoiding being too rough with his pointed claws. Emma's back arched with another little groan as he worked out another tight spot.

_ "Lay down your slow. Come settle down, settle down…"  _ He sang in a whisper, hoping it would drift into her head and soothe her further.  _ "Let loose your glow. Come settle down, settle down." _

Emma slumped back against him, further into the pressure as he worked, closer to his voice. Paul pushed down the ecstasy bubbling inside him, keeping his presence calming.

_ "And you feel life for the very first time. Love in your arms and the sun in your eyes. You feel safe in the 5AM light. I'll carry your fears as the heavens set fire." _

Paul wrapped his arms around her - careful, loving - resting his chin on her shoulder. Emma nestled back against his chest, her body heavy, like she was asleep. Paul brought one of his hands up to play with her ponytail, admiring her now mostly-dried, soft hair. Admiring her. She was  _ everything. _

_ "Jump into the heat. Spinning on our feet." _ He swayed them together, steady and slow.  _ "In a technicolor beat, you and me. Caught up in a dream, in a technicolor beat." _

He pressed a small kiss to the side of her head.

_ "Beat." _

Emma turned slowly in his arms, her deep, gorgeous brown eyes heavy, hazy, swimming in a nice little trance. Paul brushed his fingers over her cheek lovingly and she gave a sleepy smile.

_ "Beat." _

He tilted her chin up and kissed her cheek.

_ "Beat." _

Emma was melting in his embrace. Personally, Paul had never felt more at peace in his life. The Hive wrapped snugly around his mind, singing his praise, and Emma happy and relaxed in his arms. They fit together so perfectly, like matching puzzle pieces. Paul hoped he'd never have to let her go. He hoped she wouldn't want him to.

"You've been so tired lately, haven't you, Em- _ maaa?" _ He murmured, a slight, canned echo creeping into his voice. "Doesn't this feel better? You know you're safe with us."

Emma gave a lazy hum. Off-pitch, but Paul still thought it was beautiful. He kissed the top of her head and she looked up at him with foggy, contented eyes. 

"This is all we want, dove," Paul continued. "This whole time we've just wanted to see you happy. If this is nice, we can make it even better." He curled a strand of hair behind Emma's ear. "Stay with us?"

Emma blinked slowly. Hands pressed to his chest, she reached up, drifting closer, closer, and the rhythm in Paul's heart was ecstatic. Just a few seconds and her heart would match his. He could taste the slime brewing in his throat for her, dripping slowly down the sides of his mouth. She was so close.  _ So fucking close. _ Lyrics trapped behind his teeth, wanting and not wanting to be free. He couldn't keep the melody from droning from his throat if he tried.

Paul took one of her hands in his, threading their fingers together.  _ I can't see me loving nobody but you, for all my life. _ His other hand rested on her cheek as she leaned closer, he could feel her warm breath.  _ When you're with me, baby, the skies'll be blue, for all my life. _ Their noses brushed together. Paul wanted to cry. Emma's lips were less than an inch from his, full of sweet poison, ready to share. He leaned forward to close the space-

With a harsh  _ GASP _ Hannah shot upright, a massive pulse of energy shaking the room.

**"WAKE UP!"**

Emma's eyes shot wide open. The haze evaporated, the fear and fury returned, and in half a second Paul felt his body  _ slam _ and hit the floor, his head knocking into the wall.

"Jeez!" He yelled, sitting up. His brain was rattling.

Emma was on her feet, one hand clenched in a fist at her side, the other holding her head. Hannah bolted off the bed and grabbed her arm, glaring at Paul with betrayal.

"I'm gonna kill him," Emma muttered, fingers digging into her head. "I'm gonna fucking kill him."

"Didn't you already  _ try that?" _ Paul snapped, not liking the words, but they were still half his.

He felt his jaw set. Anger burned through him, but there was something else, too. Something wrong, something the Hive didn't want to be there, something contrary to their immediate instinct. He couldn't be something they didn't want him to be.  _ He _ didn't want to, it felt  _ wrong,  _ but it was there and it was  _ numb, _ and the clashing of ice and fire inside him on top of the  _ noise,  _ the deafening, incoherent music blaring in his skull, was too much to process.

_ PAUL! _

He jumped, whimpered, silently begging them to make it all stop, to take this away like they always did. He wanted his bliss back, he didn't  _ like _ this feeling.

_ Of course you don't! _

_ Don't be dense, Paul. _

_ We can't be patient anymore. _

**_You_ ** _ can't be patient anymore. _

_ You know what you want, Paul. _

_ T a k e w h a t y o u w a n t , P a u l. _

He couldn't move. The Hive wanted him to,  _ he _ wanted him to, he wanted to do what they said. He needed to do what they said. 

Blue washed over his vision. His glowing eyes locked on Emma, her face glistening with hurt. Everything in him wanted to rush her, take her in his arms and make her part of him. Everything in him was ready to, he needed to, he needed Emma like he'd once needed air. He'd exhausted himself trying so hard to give her the chance to want it. Part of her had to, she'd fallen so easily. She would thank him. They would never have to be apart again.

Paul's body and his mind screamed at him to move, but he was still. Frozen limp on the floor, staring at Emma hopelessly. 

She looked down at Hannah.

"I think we should go." She said quietly.

Paul felt something crack in his head. He certainly heard it. A crack in a sheet of glass, rapidly traveling over the surface, threatening to shatter.

He laughed, sound like crashing cymbals filling his head, and that wasn't what cued Becky and Tom to block the doorway, but wasn't it  _ great _ that they showed up on rhythm?! Paul thought it was great. Paul thought it was so great that he laughed harder, the cracking sound spreading.

He couldn't see or feel the cracks carving through his skin from the corner of his left eye, breaking through his cheek and pouring blue. He couldn't see that the girls could see them. The cymbals wouldn't stop. They were trapped in his throat on loop with the laughter.

_ "There's nowhere to go!"  _ The house echoed with every infected voice speaking in unison.  _ "We're all there is for miles, we'll find you again! You can't leave us!" _

Paul still couldn't make himself move. Emma stared down at him, her eyes tired and sad and scared, but defiant. She pulled Hannah closer to her.

"Then I'll run in place until I die."

_ You will die now, Emma. _

Everything felt slow. The cracks in Paul's skin were deep. Thick, slimy tears dripped from his eyes. He was moving now, but he felt like he shouldn't be. Not the way that he was. The Hive knew what he was doing before he did and they didn't like it. He didn't like it. He was them, he was supposed to obey them but he  _ couldn't stop. _ His body carried him, sweeping Emma into his arms. Hannah screamed, shattering the lights but he moved too quick for the pulse to knock him over. He kicked through the bedroom window. Shattered glass sprayed everywhere, digging into his cracked face, into the skin of his ankles. He wasn't thinking. The Hive wasn't thinking. The silence in his head deafened him. He jumped out the broken window with Emma in his arms and ran.

_ What about the kid? _

_ Keep her of course! Keep her safe, don't let her run, right? _

_ Right? _

**_Right, Paul?_ **

Paul could hear them asking. He knew what the answer should be. It shouldn't matter if he knew the answer, the Hive would deliver it for him even if he couldn't. That was how it worked.

_ That is how it  _ **_should_ ** _ work. _

But something unfamiliar, uncomfortable,  _ painful _ pierced through his skull as he continued to be unwittingly disobedient.

Hannah ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big old F for Paul, apotheosisblocked by an eighth grader
> 
> Coming up: a full on breakdown :)
> 
> Thanks for reading! <3


	16. sing to me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HERE WE GO!  
> Getting into some more face horror this chapter, just the face cracking but Worse so be ready for that.  
> Song lyrics from Sing To Me by MISSIO

Emma's head pounded as loud and fast as her heart. She could barely process any of what had just happened. The fury in her chest steamed up her throat into speechless smoke. The match was lit but the flame wouldn't catch. All she could do was stare up at Paul, carrying her bridal style and fleeing through Clivesdale at breakneck speed like a mob of torch and pitchfork carriers were on his heels. Though other than the blue-eyed witnesses scattered about, peeking timidly through the edges of the town, they had no pursuers. 

Emma squinted. Paul ran with tunnel-vision, eyes locked straight ahead. The solid, deep blue that had consumed what was once white seemed to slowly drain, to  _ leak, _ welling up in his eyes like tears. His brows knit and his sharp teeth clenched, blue lips curled in a grimace. His face seemed to split, the horrific cracks that started at his left eye and spread down over his cheek, edging towards his chin growing deeper, canyons in his skin that poured blue. Emma wondered if it hurt. If it did, he didn't seem to care.

It slowly dawned on Emma how foreign an expression  _ fear _ seemed on his face, while at the same time hauntingly familiar. She'd known Paul's fear before. She could tell, the roughly day and a few minutes she'd known him human, that it was at least a somewhat regular thing for him. His forehead had these small creases even when he was relaxed that told her as much. Those creases hadn't gone away, but it was a ghost of familiarity on his face now. This Paul had no experience with fear. It didn't fit on his new mask of a face, every feature painfully warping and stretching to accommodate for it. He was breaking in more ways than one.

Turning away from his face, Emma tried to decipher their passing surroundings. "Uh, Paul?" Her voice bounced as his running jostled her. "Where are we going?"

He glanced down at her for only a second, bewildered like he hadn't considered a direction. He looked back up. "Don't know."

"Well that's great," Emma huffed, crossing her arms.

She didn't know why she was even surprised at this point. It wasn't like she could've possibly expected any other turn this apocalypse had taken. This might as well happen.

At the very least if she was on the run again, she was almost morbidly glad she didn't have to do the running herself.

\--

The damp, marshy smell of lake water snapped Emma's senses back into focus. She'd been keeping her eyes trained on her hands in her lap, to prevent getting too dizzy as Paul kept relentless pace. Now she craned her neck, peering out over his shoulder, and they were on the Nantucket bridge, above the choppy waves of the massive lake that separated the island of Hatchetfield from the rest of Michigan. 

So Emma was two-for-two on returning to her shitty hometown after believing she'd never set foot there again. 

"This is a lot of effort to go to just to make my death shittier," she said.

Paul gave a strained hum, shaking his head. There was a word on his lips, and it looked like "home."

Hatchetfield was just as overrun with infected as one would expect - a true ground zero. Blue splattered over the town sign, setting the tone quickly under the grey, overcast sky. It was a fairly common sight, blue and red splashed like paint at the sites of brutal deaths that took place near months ago, despite all victims certainly being up and dancing now. The roads were a mess, crashed cars of failed escapees scattered aimlessly at the bends. The too-familiar stench of infectious poison lingered in the air. Despite this, Emma couldn't quite call Hatchetfield a disaster zone the likes of what was portrayed in most apocalypse media. At the very least it wasn't  _ Zombieland _ levels of ghost town. 

This sector of the hivemind had had time to establish a community of some kind, and it showed. Quiet singing floated on the air. Locals on the sidewalk moved in step. Shops were being kept, business not as usual, but updated. Families poked their heads through windows and doors. Matching sets of blue eyes turned to follow Paul and Emma as they passed.

Paul's hum pitched up with discomfort, as though he was watching himself run through every detached gaze. Emma gripped his arm, feeling especially uneasy herself. No one advanced still, but despite the lack of clear threat there was something  _ wrong _ in all of their eyes. More wrong than normal. Nora and Zoey stood just inside the window of Beanie's, and for a split second Emma met their gaze. Their eyes narrowed in a glower, and Emma's grip on Paul's arm tightened.

She'd wondered briefly if she had a chance of escaping into the witchwood, should she manage to free herself from Paul's arms. Now she wondered if he was the only thing protecting her.

When Emma thought "home," she expected Paul to finally stop in front of a house or apartment. That was not where he stopped. No, Paul came to his stop at the center of the block downtown, at the broken doors of the old Starlight Theatre.

"...Paul?" 

"Hold your breath," he said quietly.

Emma's brows furrowed, but he looked serious. She sucked in a deep breath and pulled the front of her shirt up over her face. The double doors were splintered, one side hanging off the hinges. Paul nudged them open with his foot and walked inside. 

The lobby was ashen and wrecked, the ceiling above the box office caved in, crushing everything below it. A pillar had collapsed over the steps to the theatre itself, and Paul crouched under it, keeping Emma in his arms. He shouldered past the ripped, burnt curtain and into one of the aisles. 

Emma looked up at him, gripping her shirt tight over the lower half of her face while he breathed in deeply through his nose. He frowned.

"There's not- huh."

He glanced up for a second, then shut his eyes tight, wincing like he was being struck or yelled at.

Emma's lungs were beginning to burn. She smacked Paul's chest.

"Oh! Uh, you can breathe. They're… gone." He sounded disappointed.

Emma caught her breath, staring up at him expectantly. "Are you gonna put me down now?"

"Oh. Sure."

He set her carefully on her feet and she stumbled at the sudden weight on her bad leg. Paul grabbed her arms to steady her, letting go when she glared. He bunched up the corner of his cape in his fists, running his thumbs over the seams. Emma's foot tapped.

"Why are we here, Paul?"

He stepped away from her a little bit, his fists tightening. "...Home."

"What?"

He felt no need to clarify, instead walking down the aisle, past busted seats covered in rubble and shrapnel towards the stage. A light breeze from the crashed-open ceiling wafted his cape back. He pulled himself to sit on the edge of the stage, his spindly legs hanging down so his toes touched the floor.  _ Tall-ass bastard.  _

Emma headed to the end of the aisle, leaning against one of the mostly in-tact seats. Paul was gripping the edge of the stage, his crooked back hunched uncomfortably. Emma's eyes wandered past him, taking in what she could see of the stage. 

She'd watched the news the morning after the meteor hit, she'd seen the on-site report of the exterior of the crash. Not that she'd thought much about it, especially when there'd been no reported deaths, but there was something so jarringly different about a broadcast on the outside from being on the scene herself. For a moment she wondered if this was how it felt to witness a car crash, but no, that couldn't be a fair comparison. The meteor wasn't even  _ there _ anymore, the presumed source of the glow she remembered leaking through the building behind the reporter reduced to nothing but a crater and a spray of harmless gravel, ash, and long-dried splatters of blue slime. She'd figured out her hypothesis had been wrong the second Paul had started singing, but something about the sight, the cold-hard evidence in front of her eyes, rushed her bones with the hollow chill of failure. She'd been wrong, and the consequence was sitting right there in between her and the proof.

Paul's head hung down, loose on his shoulders as he seemed to murmur to himself, and the longer Emma studied their surroundings it hit her that he was framed from behind by his own silhouette. 

It had to be him. Plastered on the back wall of the stage, like a faded, centuries-old mural, a silhouette cleared from a spray of ashes. A man, broken, split into parts like a gingerbread cookie. Blown into the wall by an explosion, leaving a dent, and cracking his head open on impact, if the trail of blue blood left behind was anything to go by. The most blue on the stage was left below that image, Emma realized, craning her neck to get a better view. Smeared pools of dried blood gathered in that spot at the back of the stage -  _ his _ blood. His  _ blue _ blood. The more Emma thought about the implications, the deeper her heart sank into her stomach.

"The meteor made spores," Paul spoke up suddenly and Emma realized she hadn't been breathing. "They're dead now. If there was something left we could get more, let them… let them  _ fix  _ whatever's wrong with us so this could finally end. Then we wouldn't have to fight you anymore."

Emma slowly walked towards him. "What are you talking about?"

Paul looked up and his eyes were engulfed in a solid, empty cyan. They didn't glow. Dark blue tears streaked down his cheeks. "We're being  _ wrong,  _ Em- _ maaa. _ We're not doing what we're told, we're… we fell out of sync and it  _ hurts.  _ And they… they're mad at us, Em- _ maaa, _ they're saying we're not them, we're not  _ us,  _ but…" Paul's head dropped, looking like it would roll right off his broken neck. He sniffled brokenly. "We're supposed to be them…"

"You're sad," Emma said, setting her hand on the edge of the stage beside him.

"Is this what that feels like?"

"It's sure as hell what it looks like."

Paul sniffed. "It's horrible."

"Fuckin' tell me about it." Emma lifted herself up and sat with him. "But I dunno, man, being a little independent doesn't sound like such a bad thing to me."

"Well, you hate us, so…" 

"I mean, I like Paul."

He glanced at her before looking down again. "Paul doesn't even like Paul."

"Well I do." Emma pressed. "Paul's sweet. He's a good customer who tips well, and never even complains when baristas spit in his shitty coffee. He let me vent about my day when he didn't have to, and he laughed at my dumb jokes. Paul has a nice laugh. When shit went sideways he protected me, he saved my ass more times in one fucking day than I could probably count, and he put his own life on the line to do it. Who the hell deserves someone as good as that?"

His hand shifted, moving to rest over Emma's for a few moments.

Then he winced again, pulling his hand back like she was a hot stove. "S- _ stop. _ Please don't do that."

"What?"

"Pretend like that. It's okay you don't like us like this." He pulled his knees up to hide his face, curling in on himself. "It's not fair we wanted to love you so bad. To you or us. But we don't… that's not what we…" He screwed his eyes shut like he was trying to word the sentence right. "We're not thinking about that right now."

Well that was a first. Emma felt a little selfish, being surprised. It wasn't like it was her fault this Paul's defining trait seemed to be pining for her - she didn't know much else about him after hating musicals was taken away. Maybe  _ that _ was her fault. But it made her more uncomfortable than every encounter before, looking at him suddenly so closed and miserable. This felt like a much more vulnerable, intimate moment than either of them deserved, in this or any context. She'd stabbed him. He'd suffocated her, among  _ other _ things. But Emma still scooted a little closer, and when her arm touched his he turned his head to look at her, and leaned into it a little bit. Emma bumped him lightly with her shoulder.

"What  _ are _ you thinking about right now?"

Paul hid his face again, his reply coming out muffled and broken. "Hive,"

"Yeah, see,  _ that's _ the thing I hate," Emma said, and Paul's hum sounded an uncomfortable grumble. "Come on, don't act like it's offensive. You used to hate it, too."

Another grumble. Emma bumped him again.

"Look, dude, wasn't the whole appeal of the Hive that it made you happy? You don't seem all that happy right now."

"We're perfectly happy," he grumbled. "when we're not being wrong."

"I mean, even when you were happy you weren't  _ you. _ Not really."

"We're  _ plenty _ us."

"Paul, do you even remember your last name?"

He scoffed. "'Course."

"What is it?"

"It's-!" Paul stiffened, his heel tapping rapidly against the edge of the stage, making his curled up body shake. Emma watched him tighten with frustration as he searched his foggy, blue-filled brain. "It's… uh…"

Emma placed her hand on his shoulder, squeezing him with the same force of the pained throb in her heart. He gave another strained hum, like a growl, jerking away.

"We know it. It starts with an M."

"Paul," Emma grabbed his arm again. "Can't you see what I'm getting at? They made you forget who you are.  _ That's _ what's wrong with you."

"We know who we are!" Paul yelled, his hands clawing into his hair. He still refused to look at her. "Don't need the other letters,  _ our _ name's not the important one. We just need…"

He huffed out a sigh, rocking a little, and his body relaxed.

"Need to be in rhythm," he mumbled. "Can't  _ find _ it. What's in our head is  _ wrong _ but it's too loud to figure out what's right. If we don't get back in rhythm they might not  _ want  _ us anymore and we'll… we'll never be whole."

"What, they'd just drop you? Let you go?"

"Bet you'd like that." His tone was sharp. "Don't know, though. Probably not. Whatever would happen's not what's supposed to, though, so we don't wanna know. Just wanna stop being wrong so they won't be mad. Wanna let the process finish."

Emma didn't think she wanted to know what the process was.

"And what, coming back here was supposed to help with that?"

"It was the first thing we thought of! It's  _ home,  _ it's where the meteor was, it's where-"

"Where you  _ died?" _

Emma watched Paul's body stiffen again. He lifted his head slowly, looking down at her, narrowing his empty eyes. The crack in his cheek split deeper. "Whose fault was that?"

Emma's blood ran cold. "...Paul-"

_ "Yours." _

His face split into a shaky grin, tension spreading the cracks further,  _ through _ his top lip, making his face look moments from shattering like glass. Disoriented bells of laughter clanged beneath the muffler of his throat. He looked like it was an epiphany, like he'd never understood entirely what had led him here until now.

"You had us come here, Em- _ maaa. _ You- you hate us like this, but they got through to us because of  _ you!  _ The spores, they- they got in our head because we came here, we came here to keep- to keep you safe, it was your idea!" He grabbed Emma by the shoulders, shaking her a bit, and she couldn't tell if he was furious or ecstatic. "We tried to fight, and we died, and they saved us  _ because of you!" _

Blue poured from every crevice and crack in Paul's face, dripping everywhere, soaking him in sticky slime. It glistened on his teeth, making his manic, shattered grin all the more unsettling. Emma missed his miserable, pathetic face.

_ "Paul," _ she tried again.

"That's why-  _ that's _ why they've been so patient about you, they wouldn't  _ have _ us without you! If we're the- uh, the Catalyst, then  _ you're _ like the… the Catalyst's catalyst!"

His voice was shaking, that canned, distorted echo creeping its way back. His body trembled, too, like he was unstable, a nuclear bomb ready to go off any second.

"Paul, let- let go of me," Emma tried to wriggle out of his grasp.

His cold, slime-sticky hands grabbed onto her face, but not the way he'd held it before. One hand cupped beneath her ear, holding the back of her head. The other held just under her jaw on the other side. Emma's heart stopped. His eyes were glowing again.

"You're just like us." He said.  _ "Join us in the ground, come lie with us in slumber. Just a quick dirt nap, 'til we wake you from down under." _

Emma was paralyzed. She could barely feel the droplets of rain beginning to fall on her head through the crashed-in ceiling, from the cloudy sky above. If she had to choose a way to go, she would have picked the last attempt. At least that would have been peaceful. But it seemed like this was it. Here in Hatchetfield, in the same theatre she'd lost him. She'd tried to run, and all she'd done was run in circles.

But the longer she stared at him, frozen in anticipation of her demise, she realized Paul was paralyzed, too. His hands flexed their grip on her head, but didn't tighten. Didn't hurt. He frowned, mania shifting to frustration, grunting like he was struggling. His eyes flashed, flickered like dying twin flashlights. Suddenly frustration wiped away to horror and he surged back, releasing her.

"Can't do it," he said, voice shaking. "Can't do it, of course can't do it, _why_ would we… why would we hurt Em- _maaa…"_ His head snapped up to look at her, hands pulled into his chest. Despite the blue, his eyes looked the most human they had since the hospital. "Emma, I-I'm sorry."

He immediately clapped his hands over his mouth. Emma did the same. Before she could move towards him he hunched over himself, holding his head. When he reared back his eyes were bright again, face twisted and cracking with pain. 

"Wrong, wrong,  _ wrong," _ his voice strained and shattered. "So sorry, sorry,"

Emma started towards him. This looked like Paul - the  _ real, human _ Paul - breaking back through. Son of a  _ bitch,  _ Emma Perkins was the luckiest person in the fucking universe.

"Paul? Hey, look at me-"

He shook his head, stumbling away from her.  _ "Nonononono…" _

Emma watched as he writhed on his feet, like his body was fighting itself, like his mind was split in two. His face morphed from a grimace to a grin and over and over again, his eyes blinking unevenly from glowing to dull to one each. A strained, low note carried from his throat and he clawed at it, like he was trying to rip himself open. Scratches and cracks poured blue until there was barely any pale skin left visible, and hitting the breaking point of pressure, a chunk of his cheek cracked off his face, revealing the blue-bloodied bone underneath. With that, the expression of conflict dropped from his face, leaving nothing but a vacant sadness.

Paul dropped to his knees beneath the light fall of rain, and the moment he hit the floor a pulse of music began to thrum from his body. A rhythmic drone, the sound like a clanging, echoed siren. Emma stumbled back, watching Paul stare into the splintered crater the meteor had left, slowly beginning to fill with rain water. He stared at his own reflection, the water beginning to swirl blue as his tears dripped into it.

_ "Talking to the mirror like I've seen him somewhere before," _ His voice was soft and strained as he sang.  _ "He said I look familiar, 'did we meet the other night?'" _

Emma tried to walk towards him, but the pulse kept her at a distance, the music pushing her away. It wasn't nearly as strong as Hannah's pulse - something told Emma it wasn't even similar, it wasn't even his. Still, it created a forcefield of sound around him, effectively blocking his song from interruption.

_ "Somebody once told me that there's two sides to life, what's yours? ...I might have accidentally let the darkness eat the light. And that's why…" _

His body tensed, hands lifting to his head, gripping his hair, the next lyrics accompanied by rhythmic jerking motions, his own choreography.

_ "I prayed, I prayed, God sent me right to voicemail. It's like all day my vanity is for sale."  _ He crumpled face-first on the floor but his voice stayed just as clear.  _ "Take it away, my head is in my own hell." _

Drums crashed in as he pulled himself back up, the sound pushing Emma further to the edge of the stage and into the assisting arms of a stranger. Bewildered, she glanced back, having not realized the mass of people filtering into the theatre, filling the broken seats with the empty grins of an invested audience. Squinting, she could see her co-workers, Paul's friends, her neighbor, blue eyes fixed on the stage, watching Paul's breakdown like the climax of a Broadway show. The arms beneath her were her professor's, dragging her off the stage and to an empty seat in the front row.

When Emma focused in again Paul was on his feet, facing the audience though his head turned up to the sky.

_ "Sing to me, I am not doing well. Getting tired of my own words. Sing to me, 'cause I can't hear myself through the loudness of my own hurt."  _

The rain was falling harder, drenching him, splashing on the stage when he stamped his foot with the pulse.

_ "Call me selfish when I say this, say this; I'm kinda helpless and I need you! Sing to me, 'cause I'm not doing well." _

Dark clouds had seemingly gathered overhead, and when she squinted, what Emma could see of the surrounding fog looked blue. The rain pouring over Paul cleared his broken features of slime, only for more to drip down his slick face, flashing eyes curtained by his wet, matted hair. He kept his head turned to the sky, his voice softening back into the second verse.

_ "Somehow I got nominated as the king of sadness. Got so much I know that I could even feed the birds, and that's why… I prayed, I prayed, God sent me right to voicemail. It's like all day my vanity is for sale."  _ He crouched to the floor, rocking back and forth in rhythm, holding his head.  _ "Take it away, my head is in my own hell." _

A flash of lightning shocked bright across the sky in tandem with the drums as Paul shot back upright to continue his plea with the heavens.

_ "Sing to me, I am not doing well. Getting tired of my own words. Sing to me, 'cause I can't hear myself through the loudness of my own hurt." _ One hand gripped at Paul's chest, torn and blue and hurt, the other flung up, reaching to the sky. Rain poured over his skin. His voice boomed through the open theatre.  _ "Call me selfish when I say this, say this; I'm kinda helpless and I need you! Sing to me, 'cause I'm not doing well." _

The music began to settle again, and Emma tried to move, to rush back to the stage and get to him and talk him down because she  _ knew _ now that part of him was trying to free itself. Part of her, however, made her stay put. An instinct of some kind, keeping her in her seat. And when Paul turned his head down from the sky, looking into the audience, directly at her, Emma understood why, for the first time.

_ "Somebody told me that there's two sides to this life."  _ His voice was heavy with exhaustion.  _ "I think I might've chosen darkness over light." _

His eyes flashed with the rhythm, body jerking through the choreography again, turning his plea back to the sky.

_ "Sing to me, I am not doing well. Getting tired of my own words. Sing to me, 'cause I can't hear myself through the loudness of my own hurt." _

His focus changed again, arms flinging out, reaching for the audience. Reaching for Emma. One eye glowed, the other dim.

_ "Call me selfish when I say this, say this; I'm kinda helpless and I need you! Sing to me, 'cause I'm not doing well." _

In her seat, Emma's heart pounded. Overhead, dark, blue clouds swirled in the sky, pounding the stage with rain. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

_ "Sing to me, I am not doing well." _

One hand up, the other reaching for Emma, Paul's expression was more hopeless than she'd ever seen. Deep cracks, body broken, eyes fixed on her now. Begging for help. 

He was here.

He was here and he wanted to be let go. Emma's hand lifted from where it gripped the armrest to reach back to him.

_ "Sing to me, I am not doing well." _

Lightning flashed, close and bright, blinding Emma momentarily, and when the shock faded, Paul was lying in a twitching heap, crumpled on the stage floor.

The infected audience burst into applause.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOO!! I have been excited about this chapter for MONTHS, I really enjoyed writing it and I hope it turned out good so please please let me know what you think!  
> Thanks for reading! <3


	17. know the water's sweet but blood is thicker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we GO

Now that Hannah knew her fear was a resource, she could  _ feel _ it being fed on. She always had, really, she just didn't know what it was. An exhausting feeling being devoured from her in heaps, leaving her crushingly empty for a split second she could barely even process before the fear of the emptiness filled her again on impulse, only to be immediately devoured. A perfectly designed, torturous cycle. Webby was fed, and Hannah kept running on adrenaline until the fear subsided and she was safe to crash.

It kind of explained a lot.

She didn't really have time to be upset about it, though. Had to try and keep up with Paul, had to stay with him and Emma because the outcomes were too foggy to see, and they got foggier the further away they were. But Paul ran too fast and his legs were too long, and Hannah lost him. She knew where he was going - there was only one place he ever went - but she didn't know how to get there on her own. 

So she just kept running and tried to catch up. 

"Hannah!"

She stopped. She turned around. She was immediately pummeled by soft, familiar fabric and trapped in a tight embrace that was colder than it should be. And didn't smell the same.

"God, there you are!" Lex buried her face in Hannah's hair, assaulting her with relieved kisses like she'd do when Hannah would get lost in the store or walk into the street by accident. "I'm never leaving you again, you're safe now, I promise."

Hannah couldn't move her head, pinned against Lex's shirt, the feel of her hug soft and cozy like a comfy blanket but cold and rank and  _ wrong  _ like the blanket had a scratchy spot. She still couldn't help nuzzling into the embrace and clinging to her sister.

"Lexi," 

"Shh, shh…" Lex murmured, petting her hair. "I'm right here, Han."

Exhausted and scared and in spite of herself, Hannah let herself be soothed. It was  _ Lex.  _ A Lex that wasn't Lex, a Lex that was different and wrong, not  _ her _ Lex, but… but it  _ was _ still Lex. And Hannah needed Lex.

Until she heard the soft humming rise from her sister's throat, into a melody mocking a lullaby, and a chill shot up her spine. She squirmed to get free and Lex loosened her grip, and when Hannah pulled back she did so with a blue stain on her cheek from the shirt. Lex's front was drenched in sticky blue shit, dark all down her neck and staining her clothes and hands. Hannah shuddered at the thought of what could have healed beneath that staining. Fresher, lighter fluid dripped from her mouth, and under the grey, shadowed sky her eyes were bright.

Hannah's heart felt strangled. Her lungs felt tight. She felt too crushed to move. A jolt of terror shot through her body as she felt another hand on top of her head suddenly, gloved and heavy and touseling her hair.

"Slippery little banana split, huh? Didn't think we were gonna catch ya, all that runnin' around."

"Babe," Lex hissed. "Don't say 'catch,' we weren't  _ hunting  _ her."

"Well 'find' ain't better, we knew where she was!"

"Meet?"

"We already know her."

"No, like meet up."

"...Huh?"

Lex groaned dramatically. "I'm not discussing semantics with you, Ethan."

"What antics,  _ she's _ the one runnin' away."

"Oh my god."

Hannah interrupted with a strangled squeak, trying to wriggle out of Lex's arms. Lex let her move back more, but kept hold on her shoulders, smiling.

"Don't be scared, Banana. I know Paul told you about it, yeah? Nothing's gonna change with us, I'm gonna take care of you, just like I always have. We can sing together still, we can do anything you want! Anything that'll make you happy, we'll make it happen."

Lex's voice was hopeful and earnest, just like when she would talk about California. In  _ any _ other context, it would have made Hannah excited. It would have been comforting, because hope is always comforting, hope can lead to the best future and Lex's hope is especially powerful. Lex's hope could override the most set in stone outcome. But the context was this, and Lex was  _ drenched _ in Hive poison, and Hannah suddenly completely understood how Emma felt when she saw Paul.

"L-Lexi," she sniffled, feeling herself pulled tight into her sister's arms again.

"Shh," Lex hummed, kissing Hannah's forehead, and Hannah could feel the smear of blue left behind. The sudden fearful ring in her ears drowned out whatever Lex tried to sing to her.

Hannah shook her head, squirming to be let go again. She ended up stumbling back into Ethan, who grinned down at her with that exact same clueless, hollow look. He knelt down in front of her, cocking his head curiously.

"I'm startin' to forget what you look like when you're not scared, kid." There was a shake of a laugh in his voice, the teeniest hint of concern.

Strength would not come to Hannah's voice. "Stop,"

"Hey, hey. It's  _ us, _ Han. I know this is different and scary, but  _ you _ know me and Ethan would never hurt you, right?" Lex said softly.

Hannah nodded shakily. She did know that. She knew that the Hive wasn't  _ allowed  _ to hurt her, or mess with her at all, apparently. But that didn't mean she  _ trusted _ it. She didn't know who or what she could trust right now, and she'd never been very trusting to begin with. Anyone with those blue eyes belonged to Webby's brother's musical, which was bad. So Lex, the one person Hannah trusted more than anyone in the universe, was bad, and so was Ethan. Webby said they were bad, full stop. But that didn't feel fair. It wasn't their  _ fault,  _ it was the Hive's _. _ And Webby wasn't all that good either, Hannah knew that now. 

**Hannah-**

She shook her head, not wanting to listen. For the first time since she could remember, her spider friend didn't feel like a friend. She felt like a mighty, ancient god, and Hannah felt more like prey than a prophet. She didn't want to listen. She didn't want to do what the god said, she didn't  _ want  _ to end up like Paul.

Paul… confused her. She didn't trust him, either, but she didn't think he was  _ bad.  _ Not truly. Not yet. He was really just… like her. He could  _ become _ bad, but so could anyone. That didn't mean it was set in stone. There were so many outcomes. Hannah hoped it wasn't set in stone.

Webby didn't seem to agree.

Hannah didn't think she cared, though. It was kind of freeing. She felt less  _ blocked _ from her own mind. 

Still combing through… _beings_ she knew, she could only think of one person to trust when her sister and her patron were off the table. And she knew where she was. And she didn't have a lot of time.

"Starlight," she said, and her sister blinked in surprise.

"Like the theatre? Back on the island?" Lex asked.

Hannah nodded.

Lex and Ethan exchanged glances. They knew what was going on there as much as Hannah did. Lex smiled uneasily. "What about it?"

"Have to go."

"...To the Starlight Theatre?"

Another nod.

"...Now?"

Nod.

"Uh, is that what  _ Webby's _ saying, Banana Split?" Ethan asked, crouching down to her level.

"No. What  _ I'm  _ saying."

Webby was staying quiet. Right now Hannah only got feelings.

"I don't think we need to go there, Hannah," Lex said, laughing awkwardly. "How about me and Ethan teach you one of our songs instead, yeah? That'll make you happy!"

"Starlight will make me happy."

Lex blinked again, and Hannah could almost hear the Windows desktop failure sound as she tried to wrap her head around that. She plastered a wider smile onto her face.

"The theatre's far away, and it's booked for… uh, for a  _ private event _ right now,"

"I know." Hannah nodded sharply. "Want to go and see."

"That'd make you happy?"

"Yes."

Lex looked down, considering. Then at Ethan, and she grabbed his arm and yanked him up. "Babe I'm stuck,"

"Yeah, me too," Ethan agreed.

"I want her to trust us,"

"But Emma's at the theatre and she ain't one of us yet," Ethan nodded.

"But she wants to  _ go," _

"Gotta make her happy,"

"She won't run away if she's happy,"

"But she might bolt with Emma again,"

"But if we take her she'll be  _ happy…" _

Hannah watched them spiral, stuck in their dumb hivemind paradox. They'd get away with never taking her if she let them keep going. On some level that was probably the point. She didn't have  _ time _ for this, she  _ needed  _ to get to Emma. 

"I'm  _ not _ losing my sister to her again," Lex was saying.

"Promise not to run." Hannah interrupted loudly. They looked at her. "I promise not to run away. Just want to… see the show. Can we go?"

They looked at each other again. Lex knelt down and took Hannah's shoulders. "You swear?"

Hannah held out her hand, sticking up a pinky. "Swear."

"And you  _ really  _ want to go? It'll make you happy?"

_ "Yes." _

Lex considered for a moment, shaking her head before locking her pinky with Hannah's. "Okay. We can go."

"You left my jalopy at Barker's, right Lex?" Ethan asked, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Yeah." 

Lex stood up, digging the car keys out of her pocket and tossing them to him. She grabbed Hannah's hand and they headed down the street, back towards the motel.

\--

The drive back to Hatchetfield was weird. Almost normal. Hannah was used to listening to Lex and Ethan chatter from the back, occasionally checking in on her. She might have felt comfortable were it not for the duet. She clamped her hands over her ears and stared out the dusty window.

She could hear Paul from outside the broken-down theatre before she even left the car. The second it stopped she bolted out the door, into the pouring rain, and with a yell Lex ran after her. Ethan pulled the car around.

"Hannah!" Lex shouted, following her through the busted doors into the rubble of the lobby.

Hannah shoved into the auditorium just in time for the last strike of bright blue lightning. It threw her off her feet, and a second later the crowd of Hive slaves erupted in a standing ovation. With a glance back she saw Lex on her heels, unable to keep herself from stopping to clap and cheer, too. 

She could hear shouting beneath the commotion - Emma, in the front row. Taking the moment of distraction, Hannah sat up on her hands and knees and crawled into one of the back aisles where there was no crowd, peeking out over the seats. The audience whooped and hollered and sang their praises as rain drenched the stage below, where Paul lay out cold. Hannah plugged her ears. 

Slowly, the applause died down. The crowd settled, and began filing out of the auditorium back to the lobby, like the star they'd just watched perform would be out to mingle any moment. But Paul was limp and still. A figure in the front row darted up onto the stage, practically throwing herself over him. Nobody moved to stop her. Hannah got to her feet, creeping towards the end of the aisle to go and join her once the auditorium was empty. She was stopped cold by Lex's hand on her shoulder.

"You wanted to watch, yeah? Let's get a little closer." She said.

Hannah let Lex walk her down the steps to the third row and guide her into a seat, not forcefully enough to hurt, but enough to make her uncomfortable. Lex sat beside her, grabbing her hand.

"Squeeze my hand if it gets too scary."

Hannah squeezed.

Onstage, Emma was drenched, on her knees in a pool of rainwater and slime. She pulled Paul to her so his head lay in her lap, pushing his wet hair out of his... admittedly disgusting face.

The skin of his face didn't feel quite right. It wasn't soft and fleshy, it was hard and cold like pale stone. Like he was a doll. A few small chunks had broken off his face, leaving dark, blue-shadowed gaps that showed bone. Slime still oozed from every crack and crevice, but much slower, the mess largely washed away by the rain. It leaked primarily from his mouth now, his lips trembling, sharp teeth chattering as he twitched and choked unconsciously. Emma ran her hand through his hair.

"Come on, dude. Up and at' em," she said, shaking him a little. "I  _ know _ you're in there, Paul. C'mon, you can't go for real. Not now."

His eyes twitched, slitting open for a moment before falling shut again. Emma yanked his too-long body closer to her, trying to keep her hands off his face to keep it from cracking more. 

"Stay with me, Paul."

Hannah leaned forward in her seat, gripping the back of the seat in front of her with her free hand, the other still tight in Lex's.

"Webby," she whispered.

**His lord responds to his distress. Lulls him back to their will.**

"Is he-"

**Lost. His voice will join my brother's chorus. He cannot be saved.**

Hannah shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut. "Not yet. Not sure."

**He must die.**

She shook her head again. She didn't believe that. 

She felt Lex give her hand a squeeze, but she was trying to catch Emma's eyes. "Emma!"

The woman onstage looked up. "Hannah?" 

"Not gone!"

Lex's cold hand clamped over Hannah's mouth. "Don't talk during the show."

Emma tensed, ready to bolt offstage and fight, but Hannah waved her free hand at Paul. She was fine. Hesitantly, Emma stayed where she was. Holding Paul as he twitched and convulsed beneath the rain. She carefully pried one of his eyes open. Bright rings of blue and white and silver pulsed around each other to an unheard rhythm. He stared sightlessly straight through her. She didn't know what else to do but hold him tighter.

"C'mon, Paul, snap out of it."

\--

He could hear her. Just barely. Not the words she spoke, but he could hear the muffled echo of her voice. He reached out, through the silky, starry blackness of his mind, freezing when he saw his own hand. His skin, his whole body, in fact, was engulfed in a monochromatic pale blue. It was pretty. It made his stomach sink. 

He stepped forward, through the void of space. At least, he thought it was forward. His body felt as numb as his mind, moving slow, directionless. It was towards Emma's voice, though, he was sure. But the sound didn't seem to get any clearer or closer.

Instead, Paul felt a tug from behind him, like the empty blackness had attached itself to his back to hold him still. He could almost feel it creeping up his shoulders, carrying warmth like a weighted blanket. Other voices, louder, clearer voices swept around him. Familiar, comforting voices, wrapping around him until he quickly forgot why he'd been seeking the other one at all. Paul fell still, calmed in the embrace of the dark and the song, soft and warm and loving. He couldn't feel his feet moving him, walking him away from the other voice, further into the void, though his head still turned towards it. He couldn't feel his knees buckle beneath him, dropping him to the… ground? What counted as ground when his surroundings were nothing but emptiness and glittering stars? Regardless, Paul was unaware of moving, but he was aware that he was kneeling now, below a very familiar presence.

It was their song he heard, their voices wrapping around him, forming the embrace he felt. He heard himself hum in harmony, just before his hand clapped over his mouth. ...Why did he do that? Why didn't he  _ want _ to? His other hand gripped his wrist, pulling down the muffler. The song grew stronger, tighter around him and this time he hummed freely. And very slowly the stress, the turmoil inside him, the  _ wrong _ feelings were beginning to melt away. Consumed by the warmth and comfort of the song. Despite the lingering unease in the pit of his stomach, Paul felt soothed. He felt happy. He felt like he was meant to.

...Right?

...Of course. What could be wrong about this?

Paul felt his chin tilted upwards and he couldn't help giggling at the soft fur brushing his skin. Above him, peeking through the almost indecipherable starry blackness, was a face. A face he knew. A face he'd seen before, though only for a split second. Deep cracks running through smooth stone, empty blue eyes. Every crevice dripping slime. The mask's expression frozen and blank, unreadable but elegant. The longer Paul looked at them the more he felt he couldn't turn away.

This was them. This was the face of the Hive. He felt he'd know their name soon, too. His lord.

_ Hello, Paul. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the motherfucker has ARRIVED
> 
> thanks for reading! <3


	18. standing on the edge, am I better off dead?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY NEW YEAR Y'ALL, ENJOY!!!  
> (very slightly edited) song lyrics from Soldier, Poet, King by The Oh Hellos

Paul stared, slack-jawed, fascinated by the creature in front of him. This thing, this  _ god _ had made a home in Paul's head months ago. He knew them. But  _ seeing _ them felt so completely different. Overwhelming. The voices had a face now. A name, Paul could feel on the tip of his tongue but he couldn't quite conceive what it was yet.

He watched their head shake just slightly, the bells of their laughter ringing out through the void. Paul felt his jaw pushed shut by that same furry hand.

They spoke with the same voices they always had. Voices of all kinds, voices Paul would never have been able to comprehend before, that flowed together with a smooth harmony, but a slight disjointedness. Imperfectly flawless. Always with a quiet musical intonation.

_ We just keep running into each other, don't we, Paul? _

It felt like an inside joke. Paul wasn't sure if he should laugh, though. Instead, he lifted his hand in a little wave. The blue saturating his form looked brighter.

"H-Hello," 

_ No need to be nervous. _

_ We've been with you a while now. _

_ Our face shouldn't frighten you. _

"It doesn't,"

_ Good. _

_ So you are happy to see us. _

_ Happy to be with us. _

"Y-Yes."

_...You don't sound sure, prophet. _

"I-I, uh-"

_ Oh, there's the problem. _

_ Poor thing. _

_ You've been pulled away from us. _

"...Yes."

_ That's why you called for us. _

"Yes."

The creature's sympathetic hum filled the darkness. A large hand reached out towards Paul, fluffy and blue and dripping with slime. It cupped Paul's chin, holding his head in place to keep his gaze fixed on their face. Their thumb drew over his cheek, like wiping away tears, but Paul felt none. He just felt warmth blanketing over a nagging, lingering uneasiness.

_ Of course you've been pulled. _

_ You would never  _ **_want_ ** _ to leave us. _

_ You would never  _ **_w a n t_ ** _ to defy us. _

_ Not again. _

_ Would you? _

"N-no," Paul stammered, really trying to convince himself. "No."

_ Of course not. _

_ You're the hero. _

_ You're going to save the planet. _

_ With us. _

_ Our precious prophet. _

_ So very noble. _

_ So very brave. _

There was a hum beneath their voice. Paul felt it coming from his own throat, teetering on his knees towards the creature, suddenly feeling weighed down and overwhelmingly, unbearably relaxed. It unsettled him. It didn't belong, he didn't... _deserve_ it. Still the warmth wrapped snugly around him, coiling each of his limbs tightly until he couldn't move if he tried. Constricting him.

_ Do you know how lucky you are, Paul? _

_ To be ours. _

_ Our brothers and sister demand worship, sacrifice, servitude.  _

_ What they give never amounts to what they take. _

**_We_ ** _ offer plenty in exchange for only loyalty. _

_ And you still refuse to take it. _

Paul wanted to hang his head, he wanted to face away, but he couldn't move. He couldn't shut his eyes. All he could do was stare into the unshakable face looming above him in judgement, his brain stammering for something to say. "I'm… sorry,"

He didn’t know why. He didn’t know what was  _ wrong _ with him or why he kept doing it. He felt like he didn’t know anything.

Then softly, through the darkness, breaking the sound barrier that surrounded him, he heard Emma again. Just barely. And he knew that she was near. His own name reached his ears and through sheer force of will he managed to turn back, eyes wide, wishing he could see her. 

“C o m e  _ o n ,  _ P a u l ,”

_ “Emmaaa?”  _

“P a u l ?” 

He reached out towards where her voice was coming from.

_ “Emmaaa!” _

Immediately her voice was drowned by a crashing, droning sound, and Paul's head was snapped forward facing again. Though the rest of him still felt warm, freezing, silent cold stabbed at his core like a massive blade of ice impaling him. The creature gripped his face.

_ Prophet. _

_ You  _ **_know_ ** _ how precious you are to us, don't you? _

_ Our leading man. _

_ Our Catalyst. _

_ We love you very much. _

_ Do you doubt that? _

Paul managed to shake his head forcefully. "No,"

The creature hummed, low and shockingly violent. The vibration filled Paul's head and wracked through the void like a storm rocked a boat. Paul almost felt seasick.

_ Don't lie to us. _

Paul opened his mouth to try and protest, but nothing came out.

_ It's okay. _

_ We know what's been pulling you. _

_ We should have seen it coming, really. _

_ You’re just too weak for her. _

Paul blinked, mildly offended. “...Em- _ maaa?” _

The hum subsided to a soft confirmation.  _ Emma. _

_ It’s not a bad thing. _

_ Want is powerful. _

**_Love_ ** _ is powerful. _

_ It’s a very overlooked power, but a very strong one. _

_ The best stories are built on love of all kinds. _

_ We knew you had a lot of it. _

Paul furrowed his brows, mulling over the thoughts and feelings clashing together in his head. Was  _ wanting _ to love the same thing as  _ loving? _ Could he really call what he felt for Emma love? He wanted to be with her every day. He wanted to make her smile, hear her laugh, see her eyes shine when she looked at him like they had that day in the bunker. He wanted to know that she was happy, he wanted to be part of the reason she was. He wanted to hear her say his name like she had in the hospital, he wanted her to run to his arms like that again. He wanted to hold her safe and close and  _ know _ that she would never be sad again. That sure  _ felt  _ like love of some kind. But part of him was hesitant to think so. Did he deserve to call it that? 

Did he  _ deserve  _ to love her?

From the sharp, freezing cold that still pierced his insides, he didn’t think so.

“We…  _ I... _ hurt her.” He said finally. “How… How strong can it be if it’s  _ painful?” _

The slimy fur of the creature’s hand drifted over Paul’s chin, drawing their touch over his cheek. He shuddered, trying to pull back, but his movement felt heavy and tiring.

_ Pain is a very human thing, prophet. _

_ You refused to let go of yours, and Emma’s done the same. _

_ This is how she pulls you.  _

_ You’ve anchored yourself to her, prophet. Part of you will always hurt as long as she does. _

_ The two of you complement each other very well, you know. _

_ Both so stubborn. _

Paul glanced down. “She doesn’t deserve to be in pain.”

_ Of course not. _

**_We_ ** _ want her to be happy as much as you do. _

_ We want the same things, you know this. _

Paul frowned. He… wasn’t sure if that sounded right. He remembered…  _ somewhat  _ clearly that the actions he regretted had been on their behalf. They’d suffocated her. Out of anger, for her resistance, and for attacking him. It was a punishment, a much  _ kinder _ one than they could have given, really, but Emma didn’t deserve  _ death. _ No, she’d only done those things because she was tired and frightened. The Hive understood. They were kind, they gave her a chance to… to rest. They’d allowed Paul to keep her close and safe. To re-earn her trust, and since then she hadn’t run from him again. They… took care of her. Even if she tried to resist it. They valued the conflict, even, it would make her happiness more earned when the time came. They… they  _ did  _ want what Paul did.

Something thick and goopy dripped from Paul’s ears as he realized the blaring song, the consuming warmth surrounding him again, that snuffed out the piercing cold in his chest to the point he didn’t remember feeling it at all. How could he be in pain when he was here with them, anyway? Paul’s spine fell slack, only held upright by the creature’s level grip beneath his chin, keeping his eyes on them.

_ You know this, right? _

“...Yes,” Paul mumbled, suddenly feeling very tired.

_ Good. _

_ We want what you want. _

_ You want what we want. _

“...Want,”

_ What do you want? _

Paul’s expression tightened in puzzlement, trying to remember. His brain was too foggy and unreadable, clouded by the song and the warmth that wrapped around it. Too frightened to lose it by disobeying again to speak up, lest Paul’s wants be incorrect. He wanted… what they wanted?

_ Hm. _

The creature’s hand moved, sweeping through what Paul thought was ground and beneath his legs, lifting him slowly up through the blackness, drawing him deeper into their empty gaze. Their song came again, drifting through Paul’s head. Drawing harmony from his lips, and he couldn’t move to cover his mouth if he wanted to this time. He didn’t  _ think  _ he did. He didn’t really think at all. He just knew the song felt good, the harmony felt  _ right, _ his voice filling an empty spot in the chorus of the lord. Paul followed the song as long as it rang through the void, everything else quickly dropping out of his mind.

And then it stopped, and Paul blinked, wide-eyed, lost again.

_ So curious. _

If the creature's face moved, it would have been squinting. Studying him.

"Curious," Paul echoed, his voice carrying a hazy note.

_ Curious little catalyst. _

"Ca- _ aaa- _ talyst,"

The bells of laughter came again and Paul smiled. He liked that sound.

_ You really are precious, prophet. _

"Prophet."

_ Hmm. _

_ Would you like to sing with us again? _

Paul blinked slowly. The answer to that was  _ probably _ yes, but something in him wasn’t sure. He was nodding, though, so whatever that something was, it had to be wrong. But it held him back still, the silence in the void deafening as the creature tilted its head and watched him, waiting for him to sing like they knew he wanted to. He didn’t. He didn’t know why. 

The silence seemed to stretch on for ages. A painfully empty, hollow void of silence. As they waited. And watched. And Paul grew cold. And numb. Within the grip immobilizing him he felt himself start to tremble. Something dripped slowly from his left eye, rolling down his cheek. But still he remained, still and uncomplaining and silent. He didn’t know why.

The creature’s hand gently wiped his tears away, and then they were singing again, and Paul was singing too, without even thinking about it, it was so natural. The beautiful, familiar, homey music filled the void and swept through Paul’s head. Wiping away the cold, the shaking, the emptiness. He knew he’d wanted to. Of course he did. He loved to sing. He was  _ made  _ to sing.

He didn’t understand why part of him didn’t want to.

But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered as long as he followed the lord’s song. It was gentle and joyful and Paul followed the melody earnestly, hoping his voice sounded nice. Hoping he could make the creature happy, and make up for all he’d done wrong. From the warm, heavy feeling spreading through his chest, he could guess he was. This time when the song stopped, the withdrawal wasn’t empty, it was comfortable, and the sound that surrounded him now wasn’t so much bells as the drawl of a string instrument. Like an orchestra tuning up before a concert. Thinking.

_ You  _ **_do_ ** _ know what you want. _

_ You don’t know how to  _ **_take_ ** _ it. _

“...Take,”

_ You wait. _

_ You wait for Emma to  _ **_give_ ** _ herself to you. _

_ You make  _ **_us_ ** _ wait. _

_ You make us  _ **_want_ ** _ to wait. _

_ This is not how things are done. _

_ This is why you need us. _

Paul felt his head nodding again, loose, like it was being moved by someone else entirely.

_ You see how we help each other, prophet? _

“Help.”

_ We show you what you want. _

_ We give you  _ **_purpose._ **

_ We help you achieve it. _

_ We give you  _ **_happiness._ **

_ In return, you help us grow.  _

_ You keep us strong and whole. _

_ You lend your voice to us. _

Paul was still nodding. As the rest of his body was rendered immobile, he felt he couldn’t stop rocking his head if he tried. Not that he really cared. As long as the warmth remained, wrapped heavy and comfortable over him, Paul found he didn’t really care about much at all. The hum that rumbled through the darkness and surrounded him felt like a promise, it was here to stay. He felt himself smiling.

_ You’ve done so much. You’ve helped us spread past any possible containment. _

_ We can take care of the rest  _ **_together._ **

“Together?”

_ Together. _

_ Let us give you what you want. _

_ And there will never be risk of losing us again. _

“We won’t… hurt her?” Paul murmured, still a bit lost, unsure of what he was even saying.

_ Never. _

_ She won’t feel a thing. _

_ Only happiness. _

_ We will bring her home. _

Paul’s smile widened, blue welling up behind his teeth and pouring down his chin. “Home,”

_ That’s right. _

_ There’s one more thing we need, prophet. _

_ Before the show can go on. _

Paul hummed curiously.

_ Tell us. _

_ What is your name? _

Paul gave another slow blink. Furrowed his brows, searching the mush of his brain for an answer. It was a  _ P,  _ he knew that. The other letters escaped him. He wasn't sure how many.

"...Prophet," he guessed, his voice feeling heavy. It wasn’t meant to speak like this. Not anymore.

_ Not quite. _

_ You know it. _

_ You know all that we know. _

_ Your name is ours. _

_ We are the  _ **_same._ **

He hummed in halfhearted agreement. But he did know it. Of course he did, if they did, and they knew what he did, and he knew what they did. He was them. The name was theirs. The name was his. 

It was right there, sitting on his tongue, ready to be released. He  _ knew  _ it, how it fit in his mouth, how it would feel on his lips when he spoke it. He knew how it sounded, what color it was, he knew everything about this name. It was  _ his. _ But he still couldn’t quite conceive it yet. He wouldn’t, not until he spoke it, he realized. He had to claim it, he had to  _ make _ it his, like the Hive had made him theirs. He had to want it like they wanted him. 

It felt caught in his throat, though. He was too uncertain. As if responding to his hesitance, the creature’s music filled the void once again, a gentle, upbeat guitar melody drifting through Paul’s ears and seeping into his brain, drowning every thought but the sound in their presence. The creature reached out to him, tracing their hand across his forehead, and he felt something cool and thick and blue dripping slowly down his face, running down his nose. 

_ There will come a ruler whose brow is cased in stone. Smeared with oil like David’s boy, oh lei-oh lai-oh lord. _

Paul felt himself nodding again, following the rhythm.

_ Oh lai, oh lai, oh lei, oh lord. _

_ “Smeared with oil like David’s boy, oh lei-oh lai-oh lord.” _

The song was inside him, the rhythm beating his heart, melody flowing in him where there once was blood. He didn’t feel tired anymore, he was filled with energy and music and life. The lord laughed in tune with the song, patting Paul’s head fondly.

_ What is the ruler’s name, prophet? _

He knew it this time. He knew it confidently and he spoke it so, and when he did his voice fit perfectly with theirs.

“Pokotho.”

The music swept all the way through him, filling his body, setting him off balance for a moment, but when he looked back up at his lord again, he felt like he was looking in a mirror. Like their face belonged to him, too.

And he felt whole.

***

Paul had gone still. Emma panicked, tears streaming down her cheeks, grabbing him by the jacket and shaking him. He’d sung her name, he  _ had _ to still be in there.

“Paul!”

She pulled open his eye again, his left eye, and recoiled at the blank emptiness that stared up at her. It wasn’t quite light enough to resemble the whites of an eye, however, and cautiously, Emma grazed her finger over it, just to see. What met her touch was cold, hard stone, molded over what had been Paul’s eye. She winced, pulling her hand away, watching the crack that had begun at the corner of that same eye split further, the pale stone slowly creeping over the skin of his eyelids. Emma clapped her hands over her mouth. It was going to cover his face.

His right eye snapped open, still consumed in pulsing blue rings. The terror gripping Emma loosened its hold only slightly - he was still there. For now. 

She stole a glance at Hannah, still sitting in the third row, held still and silent by her sister, as if to confirm what she was thinking. Hannah nodded her head slightly.

Emma looked back at Paul, his toothy grin painfully wide. His name froze in her throat and she pulled herself backwards as he stirred beneath the pouring rain, pulling his lanky body to its feet. His posture was different in a way that was painfully subtle, the awkwardness that made him look like a man in a broken body completely vanished. This was his body, this was the way it was  _ meant  _ to be, that was how he stood. Creeping steadily towards Emma, arms outstretched.

Lightning flashed again, lighting up his face for a moment, the pale stone reaching out through his eye socket, and Emma could swear where his eye had been was sinking into his skull. The crack through the eye split even wider, oozing blue down his face, and his grin didn’t waver. 

Thunder rumbled, his cape blowing behind him in the swirling, howling wind. When he spoke, it was with many voices from many times, many worlds, one of which was very distinctly his.

_ "Don’t be frightened, Emma,”  _ He sang, holding his hands out to her.  _ “It’s time for the finale.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> boy oh boy!  
> thanks for reading! comments always appreciated! <3


	19. we're all in on the action

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hoo sorry it's been like a month, did not intend for it to be so long. I was once again struggling and lost focus a little bit, but I hope this is worth the wait! we're almost done with this fic, gang.   
> song lyrics from:  
> Lose It by Oh Wonder  
> Overgrown by Oh Wonder  
> Landslide by Oh Wonder   
> (can you tell I've been Vibing)  
> and How Far We've Come by Matchbox 20

"Whoever or  _ whatever _ you are," Emma clenched her fists, working to keep her voice steady beneath her pounding heart and the cold of the rain, as her stage partner slunk towards her. "Let him go."

_ “What do you mean?”  _ He hugged himself tight, twirling on the tips of his toes and sending his cape fluttering out, the wide grin on his face never faltering.  _ “We feel great!” _

“No you don’t. Paul doesn’t want this, I  _ know _ he doesn’t.”

He laughed, the sound somewhere between the shaky, nervous laugh that belonged to Paul and the inhuman, deafening clanging of church bells. His head tilted curiously, squinting the colorful eye he had left so Emma could only focus on the empty stone eye staring at her.

_ “Who’s Paul?” _

Emma swallowed the painful lump in her throat that immediately threatened to suffocate her, swiping at the sting in her eye with a fist.  _ “You,  _ asshole!" Her voice cracked. "Don't fucking lie to me, I  _ know  _ he's in there!"

His smile seemed to soften just slightly, his expression a strange mutation of smug and well-meaning confusion. 

_ "We're right here, Emma. If you're gonna talk about us like we aren't, you can at least use our name."  _ He stuck out his hand like this was the first time they'd ever met.  _ "You can call us Pokey." _

Emma reflexively yanked her hand as far out of his reach as possible. She ripped her eyes off him and stared down at her own feet. No matter how lost and confused and fucked up he’d been this whole time, he’d always been  _ Paul. _ How much further could this possibly go now that they’d taken that from him, too?

She knotted her hands together, feeling them shake, backing further away.

_ "Emmaaa,"  _ She watched Paul -  _ Pokey -  _ sweep over the stage, inhumanly quick and elegant, his arms wrapping around her from behind before she even registered what was happening. That stupid blue cape, rank and ripped and stained from weeks and weeks of wear, followed up around her in a second embrace.  _ "Don't you stop the music, get into it, won't you dance with me? Find a place and lose it, get into it, won't you dance with me?" _

Emma was moving, stiff and clumsy, once again finding herself being danced around the stage in the Hive's step. She tried to pull herself free but their grip on her was tight and painful, with no intention of letting her go this time.

_ "Move your feet and feel it, in the space between. You gotta give yourself a moment, let your body be. We gotta lose it, we gotta lose it." _

Emma spun at high speed, so dizzy when she was released for a split second that she was instantly shackled back in that freezing iron grip, and yanked nose-to-nose with Paul's grinning, shattered face.

The stone was slowly but surely creeping out around what used to be his eye in a horrific display, oozing luminescent slime. Right up close to the wide, terribly deep cracks, Emma could peer through and see something glowing in the pitch blackness behind his skull. Something that seemed to pulse and vibrate to the same rhythm he moved to.

She wanted to retch, and stifled a gag. Well timed, the stench of thickening poison wafting to her nose as more and more slime poured from every crack.

_ "You know, Emma, we've always thought that good stories are like songs. They rhyme."  _ Pokey moved once again, gripping Emma tight and backing her up to center stage.  _ "Here we find ourselves again, right where we first arrived, with an  _ **_insolent fucking brat_ ** _ who defied us  _ **_thrice_ ** _ finally cornered. You really are perfect for each other. Just like him you fought us to the very end. And just like him you  _ **_will_ ** _ be ours." _ The grip on Emma's arms tightened painfully, and as the collection of voices continued to speak, Paul's seemed intentionally boosted, as if everything else about this display didn't rub enough salt in the wound, they felt the need to drown it in lemon juice.  _ "You've given us a marvelous conflict, Emma, but  _ **_we_ ** _ write this story.  _ **_We_ ** _ decide the ending, and we  _ **_will_ ** _ make it rhyme. You can't run from us this time." _

Whatever response was caught in Emma's throat could only come out as a scream, as Pokey immediately slammed Paul's foot down hard into the knee of Emma's bad leg, sending her crumbling to the stage floor with a sickening  _ crack. _ Her cries were quickly muffled by a cold hand around her mouth, the thing puppeting Paul wrapping itself around her and petting her rain-soaked hair in a mockery of comfort.

_ "Shh, shh… it's okay. You'll never hurt again once we take the pain away." _

Emma shrieked despite the muffler, locking eyes with Hannah in her mirrored position in the seats down below.

Hannah was frozen with terror, scrambling in her mind for any possible outcome that didn’t involve watching a display she’d been steadily watching become more and more likely since the meteor hit. There were still chances, she could see them, but she didn’t know how they could get there. This was really feeling like the end. From the corner of her eye she could see Lex, still clinging to her, keeping her still, watching the stage with the dark-eyed, focused intent of a fully engrossed audience member. Hannah didn’t want to be in this audience, but if something didn’t happen  _ quick _ she was going to be stuck in it for the rest of her life.

**Emma has two options. Death of herself or the Catalyst.**

Hannah swallowed, knowing exactly what was coming.

**She must choose the Catalyst.**

Dread churned in her stomach. She tore her eyes from Emma’s, focusing on Paul now. She could feel what was happening to him. He’d been sunk deep into the Hive before, the lines had been blurred. Now the lines were disappearing entirely. Paul had released his grip on his own mind completely, allowing Webby’s older brother free reign to do whatever they pleased with it. What they pleased was to melt it down and pile the glob of thoughtless sludge it became onto the enormous mass of their own central brain, oozing the remnants of countless other prophets, other voices chosen to strengthen the power of their chorus. And Paul, though not quite fully assimilated if the gradually growing mask of his face was any indication, was too far gone to fight for himself anymore.

As much as she didn’t want to admit it, it really seemed like Webby was right. The fate of the world rested on this choice. Emma Perkins’ human life was the one remaining thread of hope, and to keep it from being cut, Paul’s had to be severed. It was the only option.

Onstage, Emma was trembling in the thing’s arms, staring at Hannah hopelessly with tears in her eyes. Pokey held her tight, like a precious possession, raking Paul's clawed fingers through her hair. The only semblance of Paul left was the way he swayed, she knew that was him.

“Paul, please,” Emma whimpered. “You’ve fought it every time, p-please… I  _ know _ you don’t wanna h-hurt me…”

_ “Make a spark, break the dark, find a light with me.”  _

_ “Paul…” _

_ “Who we are, chasing stars…” _

Emma didn’t think the Paul that was left in there could even hear her. He just thought he was holding her. He just thought he was going to kiss her and make her happy, he had just as much idea of what the thing controlling him was really going to do to her as she did. Once it was done Emma would probably think just the same.

_ “Won’t you dance with me?” _

“Paul,  _ please!” _ Emma clung to his arms tight like that would do anything.

Wet, sharp claws scraped over Emma’s scalp more painfully this time.  _ “That’s not our na-ame...” _

Emma squeezed her eyes shut, trembling from the pain and the cold and the overwhelming terror of her ever inevitable demise. Just as she was accepting that her luck had finally run out for good, she heard a loud yelp from down in the audience and snapped her gaze down to see Hannah with her teeth sunk into Lex's hand, the older of the two screeching in shock and betrayal and giving Hannah the opportunity to wrench free of her grip and run down the aisle. 

As if the thing could feel Lex's pain, Pokey growled, gripping Paul's wrist around its hold on Emma. 

Hannah ran up and backstage, returning a moment later from a closet in the back with a broom tight in her grip.

"Hannah,  _ run!"  _ Emma yelled. "Go  _ now!" _

_ "You should listen to her,"  _ Pokey sang.

But Hannah didn't waver. She gripped the broom with white knuckles and snapped it in half over her knee, staring them down the whole time. Emma felt herself hit the ground hard again. Pokey got to Paul’s feet, discarding her for now, that cape blowing back as lightning flashed again.

_ “It’s becoming clear why our little brother hates you so much, Hannah Banana. You’re  _ **_very_ ** _ rotten.” _

Emma pulled herself up onto her elbows, catching Hannah’s eye from where she lay, trying desperately to understand what the kid was looking to do other than get herself fucking killed. 

“I’m not afraid of you,” Hannah said, swallowing the tremble in her voice. 

_ “No? Maybe we should try harder then.”  _ Pokey rolled Paul’s neck back, stretching his too-long body out like they were preparing for something.  _ “We don’t  _ **_like_ ** _ to harm our things, Hannah. We  _ **_want_ ** _ to take care of you. But if you won’t play your role, there’s no room on our stage.” _

Their head snapped sideways down towards the audience, locking eyes with Lex, whose expression instantly fell blank, her eyes lighting up a bright blue. Pokey shot Hannah a sharp, toothy grin, cracking Paul’s face further down his chin.

_ “Don’t worry, though, we wouldn’t write you off too distastefully. How does dying in your sister’s arms sound?” _

Emma’s throat went dry, as Lex trudged up onto the stage with heavy, rhythmic steps. She scrambled to try and stand, to do something despite her completely fucked leg, but just collapsed to the ground again. She met Hannah’s eyes again and the girl just looked down at her with that stony, near unreadable stare, and threw down the jagged, splintery handle end of the broken broom towards her. Gripping the other end in both hands, Hannah met Lex as she approached, using the broom as a parry to ward her off.

“Lexi,” she whimpered, wishing beyond reason she could reach her sister like this. 

Lex pushed against the handle, attempting as Hannah shifted out of reach to get her arms around the girl. Blue poured from her nose, her eyes empty and glowing, clear she was completely unaware of her actions. Hannah pushed back harder, choking on her fear.

Panic wracking her excruciatingly pained body, Emma’s gaze fell on the handle end lying just in her reach, at Paul’s heels, where he still faced away from her, cape flowing back in the harsh winds. A range of possible actions flashed through her mind as she reached out and grabbed for the handle. Mind racing, she settled on the only viable option. Clumsily jabbing out the broken end, she managed to snag that stupid fucking cape on the broom handle, pulling down hard.

With a surprised yelp, Pokey teetered backwards, Paul’s feet slipping out from under him as he hit the floor with a  _ crack. _ Emma slid herself out of the way, ditching the handle and gripping the lapels of his too-tight jacket before Pokey could get to their feet again. She barely heard Hannah shout something over her own yell as she slammed Paul’s head into the stage floor, until his neck went limp. With an exhausted huff she let him slump back down.

Her gaze snapped up to Hannah and Lex, where the latter had frozen stiff and the former stared back with wide eyes. 

“Not safe!” Hannah yelled, glancing frantically to the discarded broom handle as if to direct Emma towards the correct action.

But Emma didn’t move.

Even as, slowly but very surely, Pokey stirred, collecting their strength, Emma sat in a crumpled heap beside them, staring down at Paul’s cracked, oozing face. Her head fell limp, her shoulders trembling, sobs building from her throat until they ripped through her, unrestrained. She collapsed over Paul’s body, shaking violently, and though his face didn’t shift, his hand slowly drew up and rested on top of Emma’s head, clawing slightly into her hair.

_ “Shh,” _

“Emma!” Hannah yelled, gesturing again to the broom handle, but Emma didn’t respond.

This wasn’t right. Hannah hadn’t seen an outcome like this, there was only one of the previous two she could see now, but it was…  _ foggy _ suddenly. Like there was a barrier in front of it, pushing it further away, and nothing was replacing it. Hannah couldn’t see what was coming.

She couldn’t see Emma starting to sing.

_ “Hanging on a silver string, all the love that we could’ve been. Summer fading out the spring, feel the warmth underneath your wings.” _ Her voice was weak. Her shaking hand gripped Paul’s ripped shirt, resting over his heart.

Hannah couldn’t begin to understand what was happening. She’d set them on track to Paul’s  _ death. _ She couldn’t control the universe, it was too vast and too varied, and it was too difficult to tell what actions would lead where. But this was a two-path scenario, and Hannah had never seen this outcome before.

Lex was still frozen. Hannah pulled her defense down cautiously, stepping forward.

“Emma?” 

She tried to decipher what she was seeing. This didn’t feel  _ real. _

Emma still didn’t respond.  _ “And I will never let you go,” _

Dropping her volume, Hannah tried another method to find answers. “...Webby?”

The spider didn’t answer. But Hannah could feel the rage boiling in her gut.

_ “I know that you want to scream. Take my heart slowly out of me. Forever falling in a dream, all the love that we could’ve been.” _

“Emma, stop,” Hannah tried. She didn’t know  _ what _ was wrong with what she was seeing, but  _ something _ was. 

_ “I never get high when you’re feeling low. I’m pulling down stars just to make you glow. It’s just the way you are when you’re overgrown.” _ Slowly, Emma could feel the shallow heaving of Paul’s chest steadying, felt his fingers unclaw from her hair, instead resting gently on top of her head. She choked out a sob and pulled in breath.  _ “And in the middle of the night when you’re on your own, I’m chasing down light in the indigo. It’s just the way you are when you’re overgrown.” _

Hannah watched Paul’s body relax, her jaw falling slack. She could  _ feel _ Paul’s clamoring to regain grip on his own mind. He was so weak, it couldn’t have been possible, but it was happening. 

Hannah could still feel the spider’s rage churning inside her. She knew what felt wrong about this now, and she swallowed it. This wasn’t her choice to make, or Webby’s. It was Emma’s.

_ “And I will never let you go,” _ Emma, who had no powers, only the slightest connection to the in between, but a strong will full of impulse, draped over the doomed prophet and sang, and split the timeline.  _ “And I will never let you go.” _

Emma chose life.

With excruciating slowness, Paul's eye fluttered open, no longer consumed by the hypnotic blue rings. He still spoke with many voices, but Emma could tell he was in control.

_ "E-Emmaaa-aaa…?" _

"Paul! It's you? You can hear me?"

"Em...ma… H-hurts..."

Emma threw herself over him again, wrapping her arms tight around his waist. He choked and hacked, trembling hard, sweating cold and pale and blue. Thick, dark slime poured from his shattered stone eye.

"I'm s- _ sooorry," _ His shaking arms wrapped limply around Emma in return. "I-I'm sorry, I don't think I can…"

"Shh, shut the fuck up, Paul."

"H-how did you-"

"I don't know," Emma glanced up to see Hannah's baffled expression, clearly wondering the same thing. She sighed out a tired laugh. "You said sing to you, I… figured it couldn't hurt."

Paul smiled weakly. A crack split through his lip, dripping blue, and his hand shot to hold his head, overwhelmed as the rings crept back into his eye. His breath caught, chest trembling.

Emma grabbed his face. "Paul?"

"It's- they're singing too, we… we're their  _ prophet, _ we- we want…"

The lid of his eye fell hazy, stone creeping across the bridge of his nose and further down his cheek. Blue dripped from his mouth.

"Paul, hey, look at me."

He did, the rings in his hopeless eye pulsing around each other with the franticness of the god fighting to regain control of his mind. 

"It's so  _ loud…" _

"Then shut your stupid mouth and stop adding to it." Emma squeezed him, burying her face in his chest, as inside hers, her heart pounded harder, and began singing again, latching onto the only words that came to her.  _ “I kn-know it hurts sometimes but you’ll get over it. You’ll find another life to live, I know you’ll get over it." _

Claws dug into Emma's back, she could feel Paul's shaking shift into thrashing, a furious, echoed growl deep in his throat.

_ “You won’t take him from us… You have no power. He  _ **_belongs_ ** _ with us, he exists  _ **_for_ ** _ us, he  _ **_wants to be_ ** _ with  _ **_us_ ** _.” _

Emma pulled in a deep, trembling breath, shaking her head against his chest. That  _ wasn’t _ true. At least, it wasn’t true anymore. It couldn’t be. Pokey might be inside his head, but Emma knew what she'd heard. Paul  _ didn’t _ want this anymore, he never really had, every part of him that thought so was just too deeply brainwashed to remember.

Maybe it  _ was  _ stubbornness. Maybe he was too weak to break through again and Emma was just biding her time like she was apparently so good at doing. Maybe it was inevitable. But Emma didn't give a shit. Paul was there, and he could hear her. She kept singing.

_ "I know you’re sad and tired, you’ve got nothing left to give, but you’ll find another life to live. I know you’ll get over it.”  _

Paul’s body thrashed under her, shouting with a discordant sound of plunking piano keys underlying.

Above, Hannah looked up at Lex, who remained still, though she twitched in rhythm with the inner conflict of the catalyst. Hannah dropped her end of the broken broom and took her sister’s still hands, giving them a squeeze and reaching up to kiss her cheek. A silent promise they’d be okay. She moved and knelt on the stage floor beside Emma, placing her hand on the woman’s shoulder.

“Helping. Keep going.”

_ “Brat!” _ Pokey shrieked.

Emma shifted, pulling herself up but holding her hands over Paul’s chest to keep Pokey from getting up. 

_ “I know your hope is heavy but you’ll get over it. You’ll find another life to live, I know you’ll get over it.” _ She turned her head up as the rain continued to beat down, her voice breaking with everything she had.  _ “And I know you feel like everything is falling to the wind, but don’t you let the thunder in, ‘cause I know you’ll get over it!” _

Pokey’s painful, discordant musical shrieking devolved into shaky heaving.  _ “You  _ **_can’t_ ** _ escape the inevitable,” _

Emma leaned down close to his face.  _ “Nothing’s _ inevitable.”

Hannah squeezed her shoulder, and Emma gently pushed Paul’s wet hair back.

_ “So when you’re caught in a landslide, I’ll be there for you, I’ll be there for you. And in the rain, give you sunshine. I’ll be there for you, I’ll be there for you.” _ She watched Paul’s head twitch and jerk, the pulsing of the colored rings in his eye slowing again.  _ “And every time that you’re lonely, and every time that you’re feeling low you should know, I’ll be there for you, I’ll be there for you.” _ She drew her hand down his shattered face carefully.  _ “I’ll be there for you, you know.” _

With a heavy gasp and a disgusting hack, spraying blue vomit down his chin and further drenching his front, Paul shot upright, his eye glowing solid bright blue. He pulled himself away from the girls, and Hannah grabbed Emma’s arm to keep her from moving. Paul pulled his knees up, digging his clawed hands into his hair, twitching, trembling, heaving, leaking blue from every crack and crevice. One hand clawed at his left eye, like he could rip the stone away.

“We don’t want this, w-we  _ don’t  _ want this,” he muttered. “L-let us… let  _ me,  _ let me  _ go…” _

Hannah’s hand absently traveled down to grip Emma’s tight, both watching Paul intently. He buried his face in his knees, curled tight into himself, rocking in rhythm to the lyrics he mumbled.

_ “It’s gone, gone, baby it’s all gone. There’s no one on the corner and there’s no one at home. It was cool, cool, it was just all cool, now it’s over for me and it’s over for you,” _

Emma dragged herself forward, plenty distracted by the splitting pain of her leg and grabbed onto Paul’s shoulder. Hannah followed on his other side, gripping his arm. He looked up with a shaky little gasp, the glow in his eye painfully bright.

“I’m s-sorry,” he breathed.

Emma just buried her head in his shoulder. Hannah grabbed the uncracked half of his face and turned him to look at her, stony, intent gaze noticeably dimming his glow.

“Trust you, Paul. You’re  _ good.” _

Emma nodded against him. Thick, cold, blue fluid dripped from his remaining eye. With a heavy, shaky breath, he squeezed it shut and lowered his head again. He was finally awake enough to  _ choose  _ what he wanted. In the moment, as his mind raced, Paul wanted a  _ lot _ for the first time. He wanted his happiness. He wanted Emma. He wanted Emma’s  _ safety, _ and he wanted Hannah’s too. He wanted quiet. He wanted music. He wanted to scream, he wanted this to end, he wanted it to have never happened. He wanted  _ out. _ He wanted to be  _ free. _

And it  _ did _ matter what he wanted.

With a trembling sigh, fists clenched in his hair, Paul made the final choice. A choice he didn’t even know if he  _ could _ make, but by god he was going to try. He felt like he was standing before the meteor again, strung up in grenades. But this time he wasn’t alone.

_ “It’s gone, gone, baby it’s all gone,” _ he repeated, as much power in his voice as he could manage.  _ “There’s no one on the corner and there’s no one at home. It was cool, cool, it was just all cool, now  _ **_it’s over for me and it’s over for you.”_ **

The burst of willpower shot his head back, a bright glow pouring from his one eye as well as his mouth. All across Hatchetfield, over the bridge through Clivesdale and out past all of Michigan, infected people froze and trembled as against all odds, Paul Matthews denied his calling and broke out of his lord’s control. He broke into a painful, powerful scream,  _ feeling _ the god clawing desperately to hold its claim on his mind. 

**_P A A A A U L ! ! !_ **

_ YOU’LL  _ **_NEVER_ ** _ BE HAPPY WITHOUT US! _

_ YOU  _ **_N E E D_ ** _ US! _

Part of Paul wanted to listen, to give in like he had before and let them back in, but he’d  _ chosen.  _ The two living humans left right beside him hadn’t given up on him, and he couldn’t give up on them. He pushed harder, scream ripping his throat raw.

Their catalyst slipping through their fingers, Pokotho accepted their loss, but refused to leave empty handed, promising Paul one last thing.

_ You will  _ **_always_ ** _ belong to us. _

With one final flash of bright, blue lightning, Paul collapsed in a heap between the girls. Lex fell to her knees with a gasp, as did every last infected for miles, as the god released their grip on their minds. The rain began to let up.

“Paul?” Emma cried, pulling him into her arms.

His face was half masked in cracked stone, light, watery blue ooze dripping from his mouth. The glow faded from his one remaining eye. He struggled to catch his breath, shaking like a leaf in Emma’s grip.

“He’s free.” Hannah said quietly, in disbelief. She could feel the furious heat in her stomach still, though it began to settle with reluctant acceptance. “It’s  _ over.” _

“H-Hannah?” Lex murmured, hazily, bringing a hand to her head where she sat. “God, my fucking head…”

“Lexi!” Hannah reached out, prompting Lex to pull herself across the stage and sweep Hannah into her arms.

“What the hell happened, are you okay?” 

“Okay.” Hannah confirmed.

“Okay,” Paul echoed quietly.

“Oh my  _ fucking  _ god,” Emma huffed, hugging Paul tight to her chest and opening her other arm to pull Hannah and Lex in, too. “We… we  _ made _ it, we  _ actually  _ made it.” She looked down at Paul. “Right?”

“Right,” Paul breathed, in one voice,  _ his  _ voice, though it was raspy and weak. His hand clawed at his throat, grasping, like his voice was being  _ pulled _ from him and he was trying hard to keep a hold on it. “I- I don’t know what to…”

“Paul, hey,” Emma gently drew her touch over his forehead. “You’re okay. We’re  _ okay.” _

“Emma,” He sighed, his voice even weaker, near inaudible. “Y’know, I…” he coughed, smiling up at her tiredly. The final words he ever spoke were barely a whisper. “I  _ really _ don’t like musicals…”

Emma’s laugh came out half a sob, heavy tears rolling down her cheeks. She hugged him tighter. “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!! comments greatly appreciated <3333


	20. I wanna live like I lost the script

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's post-apocalypse time, baby!

Paul vanished shortly after what people would begin calling The Cutoff.

All Emma recalled was her adrenaline high subsiding as she lay on the stage gripping Paul tight. The pain from her leg hit her like a truck, and as she struggled to stay conscious she recalled Paul struggling to stand. Lex and Hannah helped him up, helped him gather Emma carefully into his arms. He was wobbly and stiff but he didn't fall. Emma remembered clinging to his shoulders. 

She didn't remember much between that and waking up flat on her back on a cot, throbbing in her head and her leg.

"Miss Perkins," a man at the corner of the small room she was in spoke as she tried to sit up. "How are you feeling?”

Emma squinted, studying the man as he neared. She recognized his cracked glasses, sharp, stubble-scratchy face, and auburn hair - this was the doctor who'd treated her back in the Clivesdale hospital.

"Dr. Kirk?" She mumbled, rubbing her eyes. "Am I in Clivesdale? How did I get here? Where-"

"Take a moment to breathe, Emma." Dr. Kirk smiled down at her gently, his blue eyes shining a bit through his glasses. "You always have so many questions."

Emma felt her heart skip as she realized  _ how  _ bright the doctor's eyes were. "A-are you-?"

"Still infected? Yes." Kirk sighed. "We all are. But you don't need to worry, Emma. The nature of the remaining infection seems purely… incidental. That's how I'd put it, at least. I certainly feel no violent urges or need to spread the pathogen I carry anymore, and everyone I've spoken to feels the same."

Emma sat up on her elbows, mulling that over. Destroying the meteor hadn’t killed the infection, and neither had splitting what was apparently the  _ actual _ central brain of the hivemind from its hosts. There probably  _ wasn’t _ a way to wipe out or “cure” it altogether if the effects of the infection ran so much deeper than just a hive link or susceptibility to this freakshow of a god’s control. Not knowing how far it had spread before Paul was cut off, Emma didn’t really want to think about the implications of an incurable lingering alien virus right about now.

"As for your other questions," Kirk continued, "you're still in Hatchetfield, Paul brought you to me and I met you halfway, and the Foster girls are out in the hall."

Emma's head snapped up. "What about Paul?"

"Paul left."

"Well, did he say anything?"

Kirk furrowed his brow like it was a ridiculous question. "No." He moved on without a second thought, flipping a page on his clipboard. “Now, let’s discuss your leg. How does it feel?”

Emma pushed herself up a little further, glancing at her bad leg, which was wrapped from mid-thigh to ankle in gauze beneath the sterile gown she wore.

... _ Gauze. _ Not a cast, no splint.

Her leg had been broken. She’d swear by it. This couldn’t possibly be enough, but,

“It feels  _ fine,” _ she said in disbelief. “It’s, uh, a little sore, a little numb, but mostly fine. I don’t think I can move it much though.”

“Well, that’s a given,” Dr. Kirk said. “There was really no chance of you being able to walk again beyond limited mobility, barring complete infection. But I managed to heal the basic structure and relieve a good majority of the pain by administering a suitable dose of healing slime." The doctor held up his hand and kept talking before Emma could react. "No risk of infection. It was diluted with water and applied to the injuries like a gel for your skin to absorb, and it stagnated after spending all its energy helping your leg. Your body will flush it out of your system by the end of the day and you'll remain human as ever."

Emma blinked. "You infected my fucking leg."

"You could put it like that, sure. But as such, you require no further procedures and as soon as we've recovered a wheelchair for you you'll be free to go. Though, I'd suggest getting a meal in you, too."

Kirk left the room remarkably casually for everything he’d just said and Emma sat on her cot staring at her leg. So  _ those _ were the implications of an incurable lingering alien virus. Though she supposed she didn’t feel any  _ different. _ She wished she had some reference of how long she’d been asleep after the adrenaline crash knocked her out. It had to be longer than her last forced rest.

She didn’t have much further time to ponder on it before Hannah and Lex slipped into the room. She quietly noted Lex’s eyes matching the doctor’s.

“Emma!” Hannah called right before throwing her arms around Emma’s waist.

Emma bristled a little just out of surprise before returning the embrace. “Hey, kiddo.” 

She glanced up at Lex, who stood back with her hands in her pockets, tapping her foot absentmindedly. Emma didn't notice, but her own leg swayed slightly side-to-side to the same rhythm.

"It's good to see you again," Emma said. "Y'know,  _ yourself." _

“Thanks,” Lex looked down with a sigh of a laugh, shifting her weight to her other foot. “And thanks for looking after Hannah, you don’t know how much that means to me. I’m, uh, I’m sorry I couldn’t make it back, but… I’m glad she wasn’t alone.”

“Hey, of course. What the hell else was I supposed to do in the middle of the end of the world, right?” 

Emma patted Hannah’s shoulder fondly as they pulled apart and the girl went to stand by her sister again. Lex’s smile was tired and sad as she ruffled Hannah’s hair. Emma couldn’t imagine how she must feel. 

“Lex,” she said, letting the light overtone drop from her voice. “I’m sorry I couldn’t keep  _ you _ safe, too.”

The teen shrugged dismissively. “Doesn’t matter. It turned out fine, right?”

“Lex.” Emma raised a brow.

“It was my choice, you did your-”

_ “Lex.” _

She actually met Emma’s eyes. She sniffed, swiping her nose with the back of her hand. Emma held out her own and let Lex come to her.

“I’m  _ sorry.” _ She said, squeezing Lex’s arm.

Now it was Lex’s turn to throw her arms around Emma, much tighter than Emma would have ever expected.

“Thanks,” she muttered.

Emma squeezed back, carefully pushing Lex’s hair over her shoulders. She felt the slight tremble in Lex’s body, heard her sniff again.

“Our mom’s dead,” she whispered, her voice barely there. “S-someone killed her while she was trying to infect them, she’s out for good. She's not the only one, but I didn't think it would  _ matter _ when we had the Hive, it didn't really make a difference, and she was a fucking  _ bitch, _ but I don't… I don't know how everything's gonna turn out now. I don't know where we can go, th-there's nothing in my head, I just- I want my sister to be  _ safe…" _

“Woah, Lex, hey,” Emma softly drew her palm up Lex’s back. “Tell me you didn’t fucking think I was just gonna leave you two hanging after the goddamn apocalypse.”

Lex drew back, sniffing again, looking at Emma wide-eyed. Emma squeezed her shoulder.

"We're sticking together." She promised.

Lex practically collapsed back over Emma, who squeezed her tight despite the awkward angle. Over her shoulder Emma caught Hannah's eye, gesturing with a flick of her wrist for the kid to come closer. Hannah sidled up to the edge of the cot and leaned forward, resting her head on the base of Lex's right shoulder. Emma reached around and patted her arm.

"What's Webby saying, kid?" She asked. "Think it's a good idea to stick with me?"

Hannah just closed her eyes. "I don't care what Webby says."

Emma drew back a little, glancing at Lex questioningly.

"I don't think she's on great terms with Webby right now," Lex said.

"She's mad." Hannah confirmed.

Hm. Emma decided not to ask. There was plenty of shit to figure out already - for one she had no fucking idea what Hatchetfield was like outside of this hospital room. Was the freed hive rehabilitating itself in any way? Was PEIP doing anything to deal with what she assumed was the  _ majority _ of Michigan - including most if not all of their own ranks - now being literal aliens? What did this mean for her and Hannah and any other remaining humans in the area? What did this mean for  _ everyone _ involved?

And where the hell had Paul gone?

But for the first time in a while, Emma just let out a sigh and let her many questions go. There was plenty of time to figure out what was going on. Everything was going to be fine.

\--

Everything was fine. Relatively speaking.

Well, depending on what you considered  _ fine _ amidst a post-apocalypse societal reconstruction.

Emma wheeled herself down the boulevard. Her wheelchair was the first of many things she no longer had to pay for, that was a perk. Under all of Michigan’s complete isolation from the rest of the States as the government worked out what to do with this entire state of musical aliens, economics had essentially been abandoned. The majority of the infected still saw most everything as communal, or fittingly up for grabs to whoever needed it. Living accommodations, food, clothing, supplies, it was all shockingly easy to come by in post-apocalypse Hatchetfield. Once a mobility aid not in use was found, it was all Emma’s.

It was a mostly convenient system, if strange to get used to. Just that morning half the supplies in her loft's kitchen had vanished.

"Hey, Lex!" She'd called. "Where's my shit?"

"The Joneses miss having breakfast," Lex called back.

To which Emma had frowned, rolled her eyes, and said nothing else of it. Though a little heads-up would've been nice. Now she was short on what she needed for her own planned breakfast - it was just perfect that this was one of the few times she felt like putting  _ effort _ into cooking.

“...Fuck it, I want to make pancakes so I’m gonna make pancakes. I’ll go see if I can get my hands on some flour.” She’d said.

“Not getting flour,” Hannah said, and Emma glanced down at her for further explanation. The kid just shrugged. “Still should go, though.”

“...Alright.”

So she was on the move with a bag of supplies she didn’t need and her bat slung over the back of her chair, on her way to the trading block downtown. The heel of her bad leg unconsciously tapped to the same rhythm the others walked to. The reflexive chest-tightening at the in-step movement and regular presence of music in the air was slowly but surely becoming less common - it was less of a threat.

In most cases, at least. Sometimes attacks would still come like a crash cymbal on the beat, or more accurately, a fucking rock pelting Emma in the side of the head, because apparently these people were fucking medieval. 

"Fucking heretic!"

Emma chucked the rock back at the assailant.  _ This _ was why she carried a bat.

"Don't you shitheads have lives?" She yelled.

"You stole them from us!" The man creeping in the corner of the alley perpendicular to Emma's block yelled back. He was drenched in the blue shit, smeared on his face with noticeable deliberation.  _ "You _ denied this planet its rebirth! You don't  _ deserve _ to carry our blood!"

"Yeah, me and your prophet, right?" Emma spat, her foot tapping a little quicker.

“The Catalyst was an unworthy traitor.” A grim, threatening humming sound drifted from the darker edges of the alley. “One day our lord will return for us, and we who have stayed faithful will be rewarded. There will be a  _ new _ Catalyst, and  _ you-” _ the man crept closer to Emma, accusatory finger outstretched, “-and all who betrayed our Hive will face its wrath.” 

Emma rolled her eyes, shoving the reaching hand away with her bat before tucking it between her legs and moving forward.

“Sounds great, dude, have fun waiting around forever.” 

Though the pocket of remaining infected who still worshipped Pokey - fucking stupid name, Emma thought - was small, it was certainly present, and to an extent that Emma in particular couldn’t exactly ignore. They seemed nothing more than a minor nuisance if not an uncomfortable reminder to the majority, but to Emma-

_ JERK! _

\- they were a bit more of a threat.

Her chair jerked back, the man pulling her into the alleyway as the humming grew louder. She spotted a few more pairs of blue eyes peeking out from the dim shadows, drawing closer.

“Fuck  _ off!” _ She yelled, twisting around and swinging her bat.

It connected with the man’s jaw with a  _ crack, _ blue blood and spit flying from his lips as his head snapped back. He hit the pavement and Emma reared back, all set to swing again if any of the others took another step. Evidently none of them were feeling all that brave today, the figures letting out a collective fearful sound like turkeys gobbling before scattering.

“Yeah that’s right! Tell the professor I said get  _ fucked!” _

Emma tapped her bat on the pavement twice before slinging it over the back of her chair and rolling back onto the sidewalk. Just because they were remotely a threat didn’t mean they were a very  _ big _ one. It was more like the start of the apocalypse again, back before the Hive had gotten bolder. They had less confidence, because they knew their mindset was outnumbered.

The slight tapping of her foot slowed again, back to rhythmic, peaceful walking pace. 

She turned on the curb and headed down the block. Downtown Hatchetfield was lightly bustling, and Emma had to take a quick breath to stay settled under the increase of music in the square. Flour, she’d come here for flour. 

She fixed her gaze ahead, focused on her destination so she could get back to the loft and the girls quicker. Instead, a good ways down the block, she spotted something she hadn’t spotted before. A pair of people walking out of the old Starlight theatre. Squinting curiously, she picked up her speed and caught up with the pair - Paul’s friend Bill Woodward, and his daughter Alice. Alice had her hand on her father’s back like she was reassuring him. 

“Bill?” Emma asked.

He blinked in surprise and looked down at her, taking a moment to process before a pleasant but tired smile graced his face.

“Hi, Emma, how’re you doing?”

“I’m fine. What were you guys doing in the theatre? Nobody goes in there anymore.”

Bill’s blue eyes widened and met his daughter’s. Alice shrugged with an uncomfortable grimace. 

“Just… paying a visit?” He tried. 

Emma raised a brow. “To who?” 

“Dammit.”

“Is Paul in there?” Emma craned her neck despite knowing she couldn’t see inside. “Has he been in there this whole fucking time?” 

"Listen, Emma-" Bill stammered.

"Uncle Paul doesn't want to see you." Alice said with a bluntness that made Emma feel like  _ she'd _ been hit in the head with a bat.

"Alice!"

"It's true, Dad. He barely wants to see  _ us."  _

"That's-! Not…  _ wrong," _ Bill sighed, dragging a hand down his face. "Paul doesn't really want to see anyone right now, Emma. He's moved a few times already just to stay off everyone's radar. Even ran off to the witchwood for a while before the total isolation got too much for him."

Emma frowned. She knew on some level that the fact he'd split at all meant he wanted to be on his own. That hadn't stopped her from assuming he'd come back soon - it never took him long to come back to her. Even  _ death _ hadn't kept him away longer than a week or two. 

He shouldn't get to decide when he stopped seeing her. Not when she hadn't, that wasn't fucking fair. It was Emma's turn to come to him.

"You know you can't stop me from going in there, right?" She said, nodding to the door.

Bill glanced down and sighed with a soft smile, almost looking relieved. "Yep. Good luck, Emma."

She clicked her tongue, pointing a finger pistol at Bill. He held the splintered front door open for her to roll through.

It hadn't changed in the slightest. Still busted, still caved in above the box office. She glanced at the stairs with pursed lips before rolling through the lobby into the back gallery, where the backstage entrances were. Swiping the elevator key off the wall where it hung, she called the elevator to her and rode it up to the auditorium. 

Instantly her heart sank into her stomach, pounding with horrific dread. Her foot tapped quicker in time, Her hand flexing near the handle of her bat. Prepared for the very worst. She took a breath. Ideally she wouldn't have to stick around too long.

"Paul!" She called, listening as her own voice bounced off the cracked walls. "I know you're in here!"

Aside from the distant, startled sound of piano keys plunking, Emma received no response. She made her way down the aisle.

"If you’re planning on hiding until I go away you’re shit out of luck, dude!”

On the stage she watched the curtains flutter. A soft blue gleam shown slightly through the gaps. He really sucked at hiding.

“Get the fuck down here, Paul.”

He couldn’t deny her. Reluctantly but inevitably, the curtains pushed apart and Emma could clearly see the one anxious blue eye peering down high above her. The rest of his face was curtained by a dark hood and cloth wrappings, his tall body draped in a cloak. He lumbered to the edge of the stage with his head hung down and dropped to the floor to meet her.

“The fuck is this,  _ The Phantom of the Starlight?” _ Emma scoffed, reaching her hand up. “For a musical hater you’re real damn dramatic.”

His brow furrowed, eye peering down, like he was offended. He didn’t speak. 

“What, you’re not even gonna say hi?” Emma raised a brow.

He tensed, his hand drawing up to claw at his scarf over where his throat would be. Realization struck Emma and she softened her approach.

“You can’t, can you?” She asked, and Paul shook his head. “Shit, that blows.” He shrugged. “Well, hey, I can’t really walk anymore, I guess that puts us on a similar level.” 

Paul’s eye turned down again. He knelt in front of her, placing his hand cautiously on the knee of her bad leg. Emma laid her own hand over his and he looked up at her.

“It’s fine,” she said. “I’m fine, Paul.”

For a moment they just looked at each other. Took each other in. 

Then Emma reached out and slowly pulled down the hood, and Paul flinched. He didn’t move away, though. Dusty, dark brown hair hung in his face, grown shaggier than Emma remembered. She pushed her fingers gently through his bangs, vaguely catching hints of the blue blush beneath his scarves - one over his eye and the other wrapped around his lower face. Finding the knot tied around the back of his head, she pulled it loose and unwound the cloth covering his eye. He  _ radiated _ discomfort, but the veil tore as Emma pressed her fingers against the side of his face. Desperation for closeness, starvation from affection poked through and he pressed himself into her touch the moment they made contact, his eye fluttering shut. Emma smiled softly, drawing her thumb over the smooth ridge of his cheek. She pulled the scarf covering the remainder of his face down, and he let her.

Paul looked just the same as he had the last time she’d seen him.

His left eye was gone, reduced to a large, sunken crater of stone in his skull, a gaping crack split through the edge from across the bridge of his nose and running all down his cheek, taking small chunks out of his face like a broken doll. Frozen in a half-formed image of something Emma could only imagine. His skin was smooth and cold to the touch, an uncanny mutation of porcelain and flesh. The way his features moved was stiff and slow, like a stop motion puppet. The brow of his one remaining blue eye creased, his blue-tinged lips parting slightly to confirm that his teeth remained the jagged fangs they’d morphed into. His jaw seemed to clench and release again, like he was gasping for a voice that wouldn’t come back to him. All in excruciating slow motion.

Emma held his face in her hands.

“I’m glad to see you again.”

The blue flush in his cheeks deepened. A soft piano melody drifted from his throat, his forehead pressing to hers.

Emma’s hands traced down his face to the material of his outfit, and she pulled up the end of his cloak.

“Where did you find this shit? You raid the costume closet backstage or something?” She teased.

Paul pulled back, looking down, eye wide and mouth pressed into a straight line. Emma grinned.

“You totally did.” She laughed, grabbing for his arm under the cloak and studying the mismatched material of his sweater. The cuff of his sleeve was a light brown against the grey, and there was a black patch on his elbow, stitched together clumsily. “Did you  _ make  _ this so it’d fit, you fucking beanpole?”

Paul frowned at the teasing but nodded, getting back to his feet and letting her see his shabby work. Both sleeves of his sweater were lengthened with mismatched material to fit over his too-long body, patched together as best as he could. The same went for his pants. 

“You look like a scarecrow, dude.”

Paul’s expression managed to feign offence for a solid five seconds before he broke into a silent laugh, shoulders shaking. Emma laughed, too.

\--

Paul kept his head turned down as he followed her back down the boulevard. Of course he hadn’t said no when she told him to come back with her. He didn’t know why she wanted him around, after everything he’d done, but he knew the answer he wouldn’t be able to give was one she wouldn’t take anyway. He was going with her whether he wanted to or not, and as much as he could try and pretend he didn’t, he’d always been a shitty liar.

He didn’t think anybody paid him any mind. He couldn’t quite hear what was going on around him over the piano in his head, he could barely hear Emma talking to him. But they managed to make their way back to Emma’s loft without any trouble.

Paul steadied his hands on the back of his chair as Emma knocked on the wall.

Hannah glanced up from where she sat in a hammock hanging from the ceiling, and looked right back down at her book without a reaction.

“Said you weren’t getting flour.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're almost done folks! the next chapter is the last one, which is a little daunting to think about, but I hope you've all been enjoying this story! I'll be back soon with the end. thanks so much for reading, and as always comments are appreciated! <3333


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